More Mind Games
by BlackCatRunning
Summary: SEQUEL TO MIND GAMES: "I think I love you... but what does that MEAN? I mean, what was I THINKING?".. Shizuo and Izaya will have to confront this like men. And that usually means they're going to be slightly immature about it :3.
1. Strange for Us

_More Mind Games_

**A.N: WARNING: LONG INTRO STARTS HERE LOL**

**This is a sequel to _Mind Games_, which I advise you read first, otherwise this is going to seem really random LOL. This one picks up right where the last one leaves off:**

**Just check my profile to find it, since stupid hates links so bad.**

**I had so much fun writing the first one, I just had to start another! Shizuo and Izaya are SO cute together, and their relationship can be taken into so many complicated subtexts. **

**IF you're lazy and don't want to read the first one (even though I would love you forever if you did!) here's the basic summary: Shizuo and Izaya, over the course of a day, suddenly realize their need for one another. Now, after saving Izaya from falling from a building, Shizuo is forced to think about what it all _really_ means XD.**

**OKAY. So I had a kind reviewer of my last fic tell me that my Izaya and Shizuo were a little out of character, since they kind of went from "I hate your guts!" to "I LOVE YOU!" in about a day XDD. SO, I'm going to try and make this one a little more realistic XD. It's going to be a kind of "I'm coming off my 'I-love-you' high, and now what is this really even supposed to mean?" sort of thing LOL. Let me know if it works or not! ^^**

**I think this one's going to come out a little heavier and dramatic XD**

**Disclaimer: DO NOT OWN DURARARA OR ANY OF ITS AFFILIATES. THIS IS A WORK FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES THAT I AM NOT TRYING TO SELL.**

**Warning: This fic contains swearing and yaoi fluff! I promise it doesn't go hardcore, though XD**

_More Mind Games_

1. Strange for Us

Izaya was asleep. How the hell he managed it, Shizuo would never know, but Izaya was most certainly asleep. Several hours had passed since they first climbed the rickety fire escape and ended up dangling over the side of a building. Shizuo was still hanging onto the same window sill, with the same stabbed arm, with the same look of pissy acceptance on his face.

He and Izaya spent at least half an hour kissing each other, nuzzling their noses into each other's hair and all that sappy crap. It was outlandish for them both, but the day had been so surprising, so truly frightening and wonderful at the same time, that they ceased to really care about how their logical minds felt and focused more on the passion, the intimacy. They felt the instinct to do what they did. After they stopped kissing, Izaya let his head lean against Shizuo's chest, and they talked together in hushed voices, mostly chastising one another, being coy and playful and spiteful in sudden bursts of emotion. Both of them were trying to keep one another awake. Shizuo's grip was iron, impossible to dislodge, but his eyes itched with tiredness. Damn Izaya was supposed to stay awake with him and help think of a way to scale the building, to get to safety, but the idiot fell asleep.

Shizuo watched him while he slept. Izaya was, in the most pure and unadulterated sense of the word, somewhat charming when he slept. His face mellowed out until even his grin vanished; an essence of dreamlessness washed over him. He made a little noise when he exhaled, almost like a small sigh each time. He had his lips slightly parted, breathing through his mouth—his throat sounded foggy. Shizuo, peering down at the raven-haired informant, concluded that the flea had indeed caught a cold. After all, it was late fall and they were hanging out in the open air with no coats. They shared body warmth, but it wasn't enough to incubate the heat. Izaya would sniffle and shift his position occasionally. Shizuo spent a great deal of the night trying to remember why he had kissed Izaya. What had prompted them to suddenly just _forget _all that hate? The whole thing had been so fast. Too fast. There was nothing else to feel. Shizuo glared at him. Izaya couldn't sleep forever. There was a big problem that needed addressed…

Now, the problem wasn't necessarily his arm. Shizuo ceased to feel it. His arm, after hours of stress on the torn muscle, lost feeling and faded into numbness like all of his injuries did. The blood was dry, crusty along his shirt sleeve—a blackish color in the waxing dawn. He needed medical attention, or at least a clean bandage, but he wasn't in the position to get it right this second. He wasn't slipping—he could probably hang around all day, like some sort of inverted bat clinging to its mate, and he scoffed at his whining last night. He attributed his uncharacteristic pain to the fact that yesterday had been the weirdest damn day of his life. He and Izaya-… what had he been thinking? Perhaps it was the lack of sleep.

Sleep deprivation was not necessarily the biggest problem either, or the fact the he needed a smoke. He was exhausted and craving and hopelessly bored, yes, but that didn't stop him from doing what he had to do. He _had _to keep he and Izaya safe, or at the least relatively unharmed. He _had_ to keep hanging off the window sill, off this shitty apartment, above the street. He had to keep asking himself why he needed to do these things, sometimes. A shred of doubt gnawed at his mind. On one hand, if he let go because he wanted a nap, it would destroy quite a few things he had recently discovered and cultivated. Then again, if he kept hanging here throughout the day, it would certainly ruin everything.

And that brought him to the real problem, the exact problem. If he and Izaya didn't get back onto the ground somehow, _people were going to see_. It wasn't the fact that Izaya slept, that he wanted to sleep, or that his arm was numb. It was the sheer realization that within another hour people and cars would flood the streets, eyes would look up and the entire city would come to the shocking realization that Shizuo had saved Izaya from injury, and Izaya cuddled up to him during the night to sleep. They would most certainly suspect kissing, or hugging, or the inklings of love.

It would destroy them both. Izaya was the strange and untrustworthy information broker, not an adorable, kitten-like man with the coy smiles and coquettish banter. Shizuo was the frightening bar-tender and body guard, the one with the incomprehensible temper, not the hero, the passionate lover. Even thinking about it started to piss him off, his fists clenching up, teeth baring. If they didn't do something, if they didn't _move_, it would be game over, probably forever.

And then there was this nagging feeling. This feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Like all of this was just a big mistake. It's the feeling you have when you wake up hung over in a strange house, with a body you don't recognize laying next to you. Last night had been weird, a detached sort of high, and now when he was four dozen feet from the ground, bored as hell, eyes itching, body craving a cigarette he couldn't reach, and he felt unnecessarily mad. He felt angry with Izaya, a little, because of all this. The lovey-dovey blindness from last night was dissolving, and regret replaced it. He glared down at the drowsing informant.

He had to wake Izaya. The dark-haired man in question still slept, comfortable in the arms of someone perhaps special to him. Shizuo stared a little longer, trying to placate his growing temper.

"Izaya," he said, very quietly. He didn't want to startle him. If Izaya woke with a start, they might fall. The informant didn't stir. Shizuo sounded too much like the voice of his dreams, the voice of his murmuring subconscious. It was soothing, it was warm. Izaya smiled in his sleep, which made Shizuo frown in turn.

"Izaya," he said again, shaking him with the slightest of movements, just enough to jostle his head on Shizuo's chest. Izaya stirred a little that time, rubbing his nose on the front of Shizuo's shirt. The blonde grimaced at this, baring teeth with a intense scowl. His next attempt wasn't so tender.

"_Get up, asshole._" His voice was firm and rather sonorous. Izaya woke suddenly, eyes snapping open. He elbowed Shizuo out of disorientation, blinking furiously. He didn't say anything, eyes still shedding their dreamy film as he glanced around his surroundings, felt the morning wind. A groggy grin crossed his lips.

"So, it wasn't a dream," he said, closing his eyes again. A soft sigh passed through his lips as he rested his head against Shizuo's chest again, the smile never fading from his face. "Shizu-chan is so warm~."

Shizuo blinked down at the smaller man; his silky hair, his smooth skin. Last night he considered all of it attractive, but now it just seemed to irritate him again. The flea still made him incredibly angry, for the same reason the flea had made him angry all these past years. If he did love Izaya, it was turning into an angry love. He didn't really mean for it to happen that way—he had hardly any control over it.

"Whatever, flea," he muttered almost as an afterthought. Izaya glanced up at Shizuo, eyeing him. Izaya could sense a growing distance between them, a void that was lost last night and was now back again, dividing them, making things awkward, trying to return things to a status quo. Resistance.

"Does Shizu-chan try to run from his feelings~?" he said, snuggling up a little closer, his voice quiet, a little worn out from breathing through his mouth all night. He sniffled into Shizuo's chest, and then without altering his position, sneezed directly against him. That broke whatever mood remained.

"Damn it, Izaya," he growled, immediately adjusting his arm to pry Izaya off of his torso. "That's just plain disgusting! All over my good shirt-..." Shizuo was trying to keep his temper. He didn't want to start a noisy fight with Izaya this early in the morning while hanging off an apartment, but it was still revolting. Izaya could only smirk at this, rubbing his nose along the edge of his sleeve. The raven-haired man could see that Shizuo was holding back. The blonde wanted to fight him again, wanted to get back to the normal, destructive relationship they once had. That was perfectly fine with Izaya, though he hoped the kissing didn't have to stop.

"Shizu-chan cares so much about appearance~!" Izaya chuckled. He started using his snot-sodden sleeve to wipe at the wet area on Shizuo's clothes. "Here, I'll fix it~."

Shizuo could see that Izaya, despite the grin, was truly trying to be helpful, but it was just making it worse. He cringed, closing his eyes. "Shit! I can _feel_ it! Uggghh!" He began to squirm, literally physically restraining himself from lashing out. "STOP IT."

Izaya paused in his rubbing, his rust colored eyes staring into Shizuo's haze ones. Neither moved for a moment, both their faces slightly masked by the morning sun, half-coated in shadow. Izaya finally broke into a smirk.

"Shizu-chan is so cranky when he wakes up~."

"I didn't _sleep_, asshole," Shizuo said, not without a taste of malice in his mouth. Now that he was coming back to his senses, he blamed Izaya for the whole thing, really. He had been forced to put himself through several hours of wakeful pain for the bastard. Izaya's grin fell.

"Seriously, Shizu-chan~? No sleep?" he asked. Then he reached up and pinched Shizuo's cheek, pulling at his face a little. "Naughty~! Sleep deprivation is bad for your skin, and it certainly shows~."

"I couldn't just _go to sleep_, stupid flea! Do you _want _to die?" he said, wrenching from Izaya's squeezing fingers. His fists tightened again. Much more of this, and he would just have to drop him. Izaya just hung there in his grip, wearing a look of mild thoughtfulness, before pasting on his smirk again. He chose not say anything. He just smirked.

Shizuo growled, already irritable from his lack of sleep, lack of nicotine, and growing sense of complete and utter remorse. Why had he saved this monster again? What had he been thinking? He should have just let him fall. He should drop him now. He didn't want to play this game at this time of day. It was just too damn early.

"Izaya, shut the hell up," he said, sighing, his rage settling into a quiet flame at the back of his mind. Even though the flea wasn't saying anything, that damn smirk said infinitely more than words would. He was just too tired to continue to argue. He wanted a warm bed. He needed to reserve his auxiliary strength. Izaya could feel the warm rising and falling of his chest. "Just shut up."

Izaya could understand why Shizuo was a little aggravated with him, but he felt that it dishonorable that the mood was shattered so quickly. He hoped for a little more cuddling in midair with Shizu-chan. Apparently this wasn't going to happen.

Things were suddenly different. The casual cuddling from the night before had deteriorated into an awkward hug as Shizuo (who grew more furious by the moment) continued to support Izaya's weight. Izaya expected it, of course. Humans were fickle beings, and while Shizuo was not entirely normal, he exhibited human characteristics and tendencies. Last night cleared the table, allowed them to say things they wouldn't normally say to one another, but he knew it wouldn't last. Disappointing, he thought. Izaya sniffled again, and then snapped his head away to sneeze into the cool, open air. He stifled it through clenched teeth, but it still managed to break through. Another sneeze on Shizuo, and the blonde might explode. Izaya took immense pleasure in provoking the man, but doing it now would be unwise. When he swiveled back around, Shizuo was staring at him—glaring, really. Izaya gave a liquid sniff, then grinned with only half his mouth.

"Is Shizu-chan admiring me~?"

"You have a fever," he said blandly, with no real, detectable concern. Izaya scoffed, only smirking and glancing in the other direction.

"Shizu-chan has such a fascinating imagination~!"

"Don't be a smart ass."

"I am not. My health is in peak condition, Shizu-chan~."

"So you're sneezing because…?"

"Namie certainly enjoys gossiping about me~."

"You're sick, you damn flea. Try not to infect me too."

Izaya, now a little defensive and eager to deflect the spotlight, turned his head to face him, smirking sarcastically. "Oh, and you're one to talk? You're arm has got to be killing you."

Shizuo bristled at the mention of it, growling as he adjusted his hold on Izaya's waist. The man wasn't getting heavy, but his arm was starting to fall asleep.

"You mean the one that you stabbed? Like hell it is. I hardly feel it."

A few hours ago, Izaya might have felt a little guilty about it. He might have even tried to apologize. Now, however, he just grinned wider. Izaya observed a small twitch in Shizuo's iron grip. He wasn't human, this man, but he certainly wasn't a god. Shizuo would have to let go at some point.

Shizuo, in his own mind, agreed. He felt his bad arm begin to tingle. His eyes squinted. It was numb now, but it wouldn't be long until that arm started cramping. Pins and needles, the whole shebang. He would handle it, hardly feel it, but that didn't mean he wanted to hang around all fucking day.

Izaya wasn't making anything easier—the raven-haired jerk yanked Shizuo's hair as he tried to scale the bigger man's body, attempting to get in viewing range of his arm.

"Here, let me see~," he said. He didn't want to assess the injury for Shizuo's sake. He wanted to see his work. Izaya decided it was something to be proud about. Shizuo rumbled warnings underneath his breath, but Izaya would not be deterred. He gave Shizuo a playful, but challenging look.

"Stop muttering about me under your breath. I might sneeze again~." He grinned at Shizuo, but Shizuo didn't think it was very funny. Shizuo, by now, just wanted to beat the shit out of him. But it was getting to be more and more of a challenge to keep his grip steady. He was strong, he was amazingly strong, but he was still human. He was still fatigued and cold and sore and injured and in need of a smoke, and quite pissed off about all of it. Izaya reached out for Shizuo's arm, gingerly peeling back some of the brackish, crusted fabric to have a look.

All the blood soaked through the gauze overnight. Due to Shizuo's constant force on the injury, it had continued to bleed. The bandage was even staring to come off, since Izaya hadn't wrapped it well. He could see the exposed muscle, the torn pieces of it. It was stringy, pink and blue in all the wrong places, exposed and perhaps festering. He had a strong stomach, Izaya did, but the wound _was_ pretty repulsing. He swallowed. Shizuo, always nonchalant when it came to pain, was unimpressed.

"What's with the face? It can't be that bad," he said, adjusting his grip again. Izaya's voice wavered from his customary mockery.

"You have to see a doctor," he said. Shizuo could hear perhaps a faint tint of-… was that guilt? Probably not even possibly, with the flea. Izaya didn't feel guilt. Not for anything. He rolled his eyes at it and didn't dignify it with a reply. He wasn't going to see a doctor, probably, unless it didn't go away after a few days of ignoring it. Shizuo grunted when Izaya started stirring again. One of his legs moved up to position his foot on the edge of Shizuo's good arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" Shizuo asked, growling. He could handle Izaya's weight, but the constant repositioning made it difficult. He would drop him, if he wasn't careful, and by this time he wasn't so sure he didn't want to let the flea fall to his death.

"Well, I don't know about Shizu-chan, but I'm certainly not going to hang around here all day~," he said, reaching for the window sill above them. He yanked out his blade, putting it between his lips so he could use both hands. He, whether by accident or on purpose, leaned against Shizuo's injured arm the wrong way, crushing it against the building. While Shizuo was, in every sense of the word, a tank when it came to pain, it was early in the morning, it had been a long night, he was exhausted, his defenses were down, and he was looking for an excuse to kill Izaya.

"SHIT!" Shizuo's exclamation was brief, but that didn't stop him from yanking at the waist-band of Izaya's jeans, nearly jeopardizing the fragile hold Izaya had on the sill above. Izaya squirmed, kicking his legs for balance. He kicked Shizuo's arm. Shizuo roared. "FUCK-! WILL YOU STOP THAT!"

"Shizu-chan is the one causing all the trouble~," Izaya said, looking over his shoulder to stare coyly down at his blonde adversary. "Perhaps if you stopped trying to kill me, I wouldn't be moving so much-."

Too late. Shizuo had already snapped. It had been a long night. He was tired, he wanted to go to bed, he wanted a fucking smoke and Izaya was no longer cute as much as he was infuriating. There was, possibly, a tiny piece of Shizuo that recognized Izaya as enchanting but that piece of him was smothered but his sudden rage.

"TRYING TO KILL YOU?" He voice rasped, a smile curling his lips. "OH, YOU'LL _KNOW_ WHEN I'M TRYING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!"

Izaya, quite familiar with this passionate Shizu-chan (the Shizu-chan he loved and preferred), did not panic. It was just another tantrum, and it would pass. Humans were so moody, sometimes. Always jumping from love to hate and back again. He took his blade from his mouth with his right hand, using his left elbow to hitch himself up onto the small width of the window sill. He sniffled, trying to keep his running nose under control. He wished he had a tissue. The morning wind was only making it worse.

"Ah, Shizu-chan," Izaya said, chuckling a little. "Such an empty bluffer. A terrible poker face, too. I-"

Shizuo snatched his leg, jerked, and Izaya's precarious grip came free of the ledge on which he hung. For a brief moment of pure terror, he was falling backwards through the thin air. Shizuo wasn't holding on to him anymore. Shizu-chan was _trying to kill him_.

Oh, no.

Izaya wasn't about to have _that._

He squeezed his body slightly, allowing himself to back flip forward so that he faced right-side-up again, and then he sunk his knife into the soft flesh of Shizuo's thigh. The blade, holding all of Izaya's weight, slid down through Shizuo's skin and stopped when it lodged in Shizuo's knee cap. Izaya rooted both his hands to the handle as blood began to rain down upon him in thick globs. It coated his face in a spray.

"Ungrateful bastard," he hissed, staring up at the blonde with red eyes. They gleamed out from his blood-coated face. He was still smiling though. That psychotic little smirk. "Did you forget about last night~?"

Shizuo had felt the blade pierce him, but only after he looked down to see it. It was painful, but pain seldom registered anymore. Fatigue was overwhelming him. His arm shook slightly. He had lost his glasses last night, so his brown eyes flickered as the sun peaked in the sky. Another half hour, and people would flock the streets.

"Far as I'm concerned, last night never happened," he said. His voice was cold, firm, but Izaya only grinned wider. He reached up, inching his hand up Shizuo's thigh, sliding his fingers along his leg, near his crotch.

"Oh~?" He watched Shizuo's face slowly tint pink. "Is that so, Shizu-chan~?"

Shizuo felt the rising heat of his own body, especially around his neck and ears. He kicked Izaya in the face, as hard as he could. A wavering relief descended upon him when the hand withdrew.

"GET THE HELL OFF ME!" Shizuo started thrashing his lower limbs, trying to shake himself free of the damn flea. The parasite. Why could he never seem to get rid of him? Izaya wrapped his arms around Shizuo's leg and hung on for the ride. Within perhaps a ten minutes, Shizuo was tired out. He hung there, panting a little. Izaya glanced up at him, and in truth the informant wasn't really feeling all that up to it either. His cold was settling in. He sniffled powerfully, the sound liquid. Shizuo cringed, glaring, shaking his leg a little again. Izaya grinned.

"Shizu-chan can't get rid of me that easily~," he said. Shizuo hung his head, blonde bangs over his eyes. His voice was deep.

"Go die. Just fuck off and die."

Izaya frowned, pouting slightly. "Now, is that anyway to speak to me~? You could at least be cordial."

When Shizuo didn't say anything, Izaya peered up at him, squinting his eyes. More blood from Shizuo's leg leaked onto his face, and he sputtered, having to reach up and wipe it with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Shizu-chan is so quiet all of a sudden~," he said. He wanted to jog a reaction. A small twinge of panic rose within him again. Shizuo wasn't going to try and play that nasty 'make-Izaya-mad' game, was he? Izaya hated that game. The raven-haired man reached up again, squeezing the inside of Shizuo's thigh.

"Is Shizu-chan having a change of heart~?" he asked, voice quiet and snaky. Shizuo stirred, groaned, and gave Izaya another square kick in the jaw. Izaya's face snapped to the side, and he spit blood. Oohh, Shizu-chan was angry. Izaya grinned a little. While hanging on to Shizuo's leg, he wrenched the knife from his thigh, then plunged it back in, a little higher up, around the hip. And again, this time the waist. Each time Izaya stabbed, he moved closer and closer to Shizuo face, until they were right where they were before, face to face. He sniffled again, wiping his nose on his bloody sleeve, smirking at Shizuo's impassive face, half hidden by his bangs.

"Shizu-chan~?" Izaya whispered the question. "Do you still want me?" He leaned closer, putting his arms around his neck. "Need me~?"

Shizuo didn't move at all. He spoke. "I'm going to let go."

**AN: Hey! I've already had one reviewer voice concern about the seemingly 180 degree turn in the relationship. They're coming of a "love high" no doubt, but there WILL be extensive cuddling in later chapters :D. Just wait it out guys, I promise it's coming! 3**


	2. My Choice

**AN: Okay, guys. I'm REALLY nervous about this LOL. Injuring Shizuo is always hard to do, because it simply just isn't supposed to happen XD. Heiwajima Shizuo was not written, or created, to be hurt. He is strong, incredibly strong, and it's downright difficult to make him weak without ruining his character LOL. SO, here's my attempt. I understand that it might suck, mostly because I had to come up (with help from Pezlie! :D) with some kind of ploy to really knock the guy down ^^''... Hope it's all right XD**

2. My Choice

Izaya blinked, leaning back from the blonde. "You're going to…what?"

Shizuo still didn't move. All he did was speak. He was like stone under Izaya. "I'm fucking letting go. I feel like shit, I want a damn cigarette, and if you don't get off me, I'll crush you to dust when I land."

Izaya, the authority on human behavior, was once against stunned by Shizuo. The man just was such a strange human, sometimes. Izaya furrowed his brow.

"You might injure yourself~," he said, grinning uncertainly. Izaya didn't really-… _care_. But an injured Shizu-chan was not a fun Shizu-chan, especially if he didn't get hurt by Izaya's hands or will. He wanted a healthy and angry Shizu-chan, the one who would chase him. Pay attention to him.

"Like hell I will," he growled. Izaya's eyes floated over to Shizuo's arm. It wasn't shaking, he wasn't in pain, but it was clear Shizuo was strained. Shizuo had been awake for over twenty-four hours. Shizuo was just human, after all. Izaya's heart felt suddenly cold.

"No, really," he said. His eyes stared into Shizuo's. "Think about this logically. We should just climb down~."

Shizuo still said nothing.

He did this:

Shizuo bared his teeth, then slammed his forehead into Izaya's. Izaya, knocked senseless for a moment, let go of Shizuo and started to fall. But the blonde, for whatever reason (perhaps affection left over from the night before), let go first. They were both in midair. They were both falling. Shizuo, however, kicked Izaya hard in the ass and sent him flying through an apartment window. Glass exploded. Izaya got sliced all over, and flew headlong into a wall. A young girl, playing with a dollhouse nearby (presumably part of the poor family who lived in there) fled from the room screaming for her mother.

"BASSSTAAAAAAAAARD!"

That's what Izaya heard Shizuo screaming on the way down. Long way down. Falling through the air. Izaya was stilled stunned by the impact, head spinning, body shocked. He tried to sit up, but it was difficult. He sure as hell needed to get out of there before that brat brought her parents to see him. He managed, hand plastered to his head, to stagger out of the apartment and into the hallway. What floor was this?

He paused, trying to focus his swimming vision on the room numbers. He stumbled forward with a violent sneeze. Then another. He braced himself against a wall, cursing Shizu-chan for hitting him so hard, the ass. He blinked.

"Wait-…"

SHIZU-CHAN.

He bolted into a clumsy run for the stairwell. He slammed into the door, forcing it open. An echoing alarm started blaring in the acoustic space, apparently because he wasn't supposed to be using the fire-escape. The noise disoriented him, but he leapt over the railing and dropped onto the lower staircase anyway. He did this all the way down, jumping stairs. It would make him faster. He needed speed right now.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Why had he stabbed him all those times? Why had he _done_ that? If Shizu-chan got hurt-… if Shizuo was _dead_-… Izaya set his jaw and forced the thought from his mind. There was no way he was dead. Shizuo could survive that. Hell, if the Russian could do it, so could he, right?

His bone structure could handle it. And he hadn't even stabbed him that deeply.

Izaya burst out into the street just as a few citizens of Ikebukuro were beginning to emerge. Izaya dumped an elderly woman over onto the street as he rushed past her. He could see Shizuo lying in the road, and a hulking dump truck was turned over nearby. People were beginning to gather. People would witness this-… people might think things, if they see Orihara Izaya hurrying to the aid of an injured Heiwajima Shizuo. But who cared, at this point? Sure, his reputation would hit the dirt, but Izaya had ways to reviving it. He would worry about that later. Shizuo was priority one right now.

He dropped next to him on the pavement. Shizuo landed eagle-winged, sprawled out against the tar and concrete. One side of his face was bleeding, as were the half-dozen stab wounds along his torso and leg. Many of his limbs were bent in awkward directions. A bloody, bright liquid leaked from his ears, and the back of his head. Presumably, from the gossip Izaya could over hear, Shizuo had fallen, hit the ground, and while he was getting up, had been run over by an early morning garbage truck. Afterward, the blonde stood up and lunged for it, and lifted it clear off the ground in rage. Citizens claimed he had been meaning to throw it, but the weight had proved too much and crushed him to the ground. No one had dared pull him out, for fear he may still be conscious, until the garbage truck driver yanked him out from under the truck himself.

Izaya blinked. "Oh-..."

People were crowding around, creating a ring around the two of them. Whispering, they stared at the presumably dead Shizuo and the shocked looking Izaya. Within the four seconds that they had congregated, already rumors were spreading.

'I heard Orihara finally killed the guy.'

'Really? I thought he hired someone.'

'That's bull. The guy was totally trying to save his life. Look at his face!'

'_NO_… I can't _believe_ that.'

Izaya already had Shinra on the phone, the cell pressed between his cheek and shoulder as his hands hovered around Shizuo, trying to determine what he should do. The blonde wasn't responding to his touch. He didn't want to shake him, but he didn't want to-… caress him or something in front of all these people. Izaya was never happier to hear the doctor's voice.

A yawn. "Hello?" Shinra's voice was groggy, hardly awake. "Who is this?"

"Shinra, it's Izaya," he said, holding the phone with his hand as he sniffled. He reached a sleeve to his face and held it there. The fact that he was looking down, and his nose was still running badly made it difficult to carry on without a tissue.

"Izaya?" Shinra asked, voice still sleepy. "What could you need this early?"

"Shizu-chan," Izaya answered, clearing his throat. More people were gathering. This was turning into a regular social event. The pools of blood were expanding. Time was waning. "Shizu-chan is hurt."

Shinra was silent on the other end. His voice came out quietly. a little hesitant. "Was this-… your doing, or-?" He didn't understand. Why would Izaya call to tell him _that?_

Izaya's growing panic overflowed, and he turned, lashing out at a middle-aged man who was reaching out towards the unconscious blonde.

"Back the hell off, gramps, or I'll cut your hand off~!" He said it with his characteristic flourish, brandishing his switchblade. He went back to Shinra immediately. "No-! Well, yes~… That doesn't matter, just come get him."

Shinra shrugged on his coat, stumbling around, still in his pajamas. He slipped on his glasses as he rubbed an eye. "What? Where is he? Izaya, I don't understand-"

Izaya pulled back the phone, shouting into it. "He's dying, dammit!" As he said that, Shizuo twitched, muttered a soft groan. Izaya automatically forgot about Shinra. His breath returned to him. He heaved a small sigh of relief.

"Shizu-chan~," he said, still wary of the injuries, but strangely glad that Shizuo was still alive. "Thank goodness." He reached out, smoothing back some blood-tainted hair from his brow. There was a gash on his forehead. Izaya winced. "Oh, Shizu-chan~..."

Shizuo was foggy. He couldn't really recall what happened, exactly. He remembered kicking Izaya's ass, mostly because it was fun, but the rest faded into a fizzy background noise. But as his vision paddled into recognizable shapes, he began to discern the many faces. The many people of Ikebukuro, including the damn flea, who was being all lovey with him again.

In front of all these people.

In public.

In daylight.

Being gay with him.

…FUCK.

Shizuo strength, or what was left, rushed back into him. He needed to convince these people he hated Izaya (which he did, of course) and that there was _nothing_ going on between them at all. Giving them the wrong idea would most certainly destroy his image. He reached out with bloody hands, and seized a suddenly surprised Izaya by the neck, pinning him to the ground. Izaya's cell phone flew from his hand, pattering across the road. Shizuo straddled him, pinning Izaya's arms down with his knees. He couldn't feel any pain; he felt almost normal. Sure, there were some parts of his body that he had trouble moving, but he'd worry about that later. His head felt very funny, like it wasn't connected to him anymore. Everything was blurry. He saw double. His eyes were bleary and glassed over, like they were cleaned with shoe-shiner. But that was okay. He could still smell the damn flea. He didn't need his eyes for this.

"You bastard," Shizuo growled through clenched teeth, squeezing Izaya's throat. He didn't squeeze hard. He didn't have a lot in him right now. His grip was more like the restricting pressure of a tight dog collar, rather than strangulation. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

Izaya, more than anything, was shocked. What the hell? Why did Shizuo want to kill him all of a-? Then it hit him. Humans-… silly humans. They cared so much about appearances. So did Izaya, of course, but that was because he wanted to keep a good job, keep a steady flow of cash. Shizuo just didn't want to have his masculinity stripped from him for all to see. He smirked at Shizuo, sniffling again, before giving a little cough.

"Shizu-chan certainly loves to be on top~," he said, grinning. Shizuo flushed, and angrily bent down, face over Izaya's face, hands tightening. That liquid was still leaking from his head and ears, down his neck, bleeding into his shirt. Izaya stared at it, not bothering to mask his worry anymore. He made a motion to speak, but Shizuo cut him off.

"You damn flea," Shizuo said. He really meant it to. He was so mad right now. If he had more strength, he'd be destroying a building, or dismantling a bus. Something like that. "YOU DAMN-… DAMN…" He trailed off, closing his eyes for a second. His head pulsed. It wasn't painful as much as it was uncomfortable. Like his brain was getting too big for his skull. Izaya wrinkled his nose, voice a little light.

"Shizu-chan~," he said, squirming a little. He tried to free his arms. "I have to-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Shizuo panted, face blotchy. He kept his eyes closed. What was wrong with him? He couldn't feel anything specific, or sense where anything was. He _could_ feel Izaya trying to twist his head around though, so Shizuo held a little tighter.

"Shizu-chan, really," he said, eyes beginning to flutter. "I really need to-"

Shizuo just bent over a little more, trying to shut the flea up. It was like every noise was magnified a hundred times. The furtive whispers of the crowd became crashing of waves within the walls of his psyche. Izaya's pleading voice morphed into shrill nails on a chalkboard, grating against his mind. He hissed through his teeth.

Izaya, unable to speak any more, resigned himself to his insurmountable urge to sneeze. Because Shizu-chan had him pinned and refused to move, the blonde took Izaya's spray of spit directly. It coated his face. Izaya, while deranged, certainly had a sense of decorum, so he apologized immediately afterwards. Shinra continued to shriek from the phone speaker, his tinny voice barely heard over the rumble of cars and concerned tones.

But Shizuo didn't hear them.

All the sounds amalgamated into a mass that seemed bigger than his body, heavier than the universe. It was a sudden, surreal experience. He saw bright colors flashing through his vision.

And then, he saw nothing at all.

**AN: I did some revising before I posted, but it was spot revising, so if there's something inaccurate or wrong in here, please tell me in a review, and I'll fix it :D. THANKS GUYS! :D**


	3. Diagnosis

**AN: Haha! Look at the OOC-ness :D! If you thought it was bad before, it might get worse. I'm trying, really, but this plot arc is just out of character in general, so these guys are going to be pretty OOC themselves, I guess. As always, I'm totally open for suggestions in the review box if you see anything horrendously incorrect and annoying LOL. Hope you like!**

3. Diagnosis

The first thing that came back was the smell. It crept up on him, like a soft, rising balloon. First of all, he smelled blood. He rather liked that smell, knew it well. It was familiar. Next, he could smell rubbing alcohol, and the various sharp odors that chemicals carried. They irritated him, and he scrunched up his face, smelling their effluvia in the darkness behind his eyelids. He could smell that damn flea too, somewhere. The smell was weak, so he wasn't directly nearby, but he had been.

The second thing that came back was the sound. It didn't creep. It rushed. It flooded his ears like water, and he clenched at the strong sounds. They were so loud. He heard voices, rustling of papers and fabric, the wind, shoes on the floor, his own breathing. It all crashed into him quickly, and brought along the sense of touch. He could feel something cold on his forehead, something sharp in his arm. Nothing hurt. The only pain he could feel was faint and dull. He could ignore it easily. But the sudden aural and tactile sensations made his stomach turn. Everything happened so fast, he felt suddenly sick. It wasn't until he heard the pure, though slightly garbled, voice of Shinra that he opened his eyes.

"Good, he's coming around," the doctor said. Shizuo's eyes flashed open. The blurred images swiveled into something that barely passed as a lucid image. The light pierced his eyes. He blinked.

"Celty, dim the blinds, would you? His eyes are sensitive." Shinra said.

"Who's eyes are sensitive?" Shizuo growled, reaching up a hand to block the glaring brightness. The lights didn't _hurt_ per say, but it was uncomfortable and it made his eyes water. Everything still looked incredibly blurry. He squinted at Shinra, who looked like a white blob with a porcupine for a head.

"Yours," the blob said, coming closer. He reached out with a doctor tool (one that Shizuo couldn't really identify) and shined a bright beam into the blonde's eye. The pain hadn't been there before, but with a concentrated laser of light now entering his supposedly sensitive eyes, he lashed out.

"DAMN IT, SHINRA!" Covering his eyes with his arm, he backhanded the man into a wall, as if it were a common reflex. Celty hurried to Shira's side. He waved her off as he stood, using the wall for support.

"Well, at least we know he still has _some_ form of sight. Either that, or he got lucky with aim."

Shizuo was rubbing his eye with a fist, irritable. It was then that he noticed the IV hooked into his wrist. He reached for the tube and tore it out of his skin without pause. Shinra reached out with a wavering hand, then sighed.

"Shizuo," he said, trying to keep a happy face. "You really should just relax, all right? You've been through a great deal these past few-"

"Shut up," Shizuo said. The voices still sounded loud to him. His own voice was like a freight-train in his head. He put one of his hands over his ears, trying to muffle the sounds. He felt a little sick again. Shinra tried again, approaching Shizuo's bedside with Celty, who reached out and smoothed Shizuo's hair from his brow. The bartender seemed to calm a bit. He sighed through his nose, which was a little stuffy for some reason, and crossed his arms.

"Well?" he asked.

Shinra scratched the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. "Well-…" He looked over at Celty, who looked back at him. She shrugged. Shinra went on.

"Well, you fell off a building, which I normally wouldn't worry about, but then you got hit with a dump truck or something. You picked it up, but it wasn't exactly the weight of your typical automobile…" He paused. Shizuo was unfazed. He raised his eyebrows.

"And?"

"And you have half-a-dozen shallow stab wounds, fractured ribs, topical wounds, a number of broken bones, and severe head trama. You're pupils won't dilate, noises sound overtly loud to you… I'm a little worried, Shizuo."

Shizuo scoffed at the doctor, leaning back against his pillow. "Is that all? You had me going for a second. That's all kid stuff. I'm f-… fuhh-…" He paused, breath wavering, eyes shutting, before he doubled over with an incredible sneeze. The sound of it echoed in his own head, which made him wince. He shook the whole bed with it. Celty stood up in her surprise.

"Oh," Shinra said, holding up a finger. "And you caught Izaya's cold."

Shizuo, hands loosely hovering over his nose and mouth, sat there in bed. He blinked once. "I…caught his-…?" It didn't take more than a millisecond after before he flung off his covers and stormed out of bed. He stumbled a little. The liquid in his inner ear, the very nectar that keeps the body balanced, had leaked during the accident and made him unstable on his feet. He nearly fell, but Shinra rushed forward to support him. None of this bothered Shizuo.

"WHERE IS HE? I'LL KILL HIM! I'LL KILL THAT BASTARD!"

Celty, not really having the time to type some kind of response, tried to soothe him, lay him back down. She put her hands on her shoulders, rubbing her thumbs there, while Shinra gently led him back to the bed. Shizuo sat down quickly, his head light. It felt disconnected. He still fumed.

"Now, Shizuo, you're wounds have already started healing, but I think it would be beneficial for you to just take a week off to r-"

"Give me a damn cigarette, Shinra," Shizuo grumbled, face a more than a little murderous. Shinra put his hands on his hips, trying to act stern. He still smiled good-naturedly.

"Now, Shizuo, you should-"

"If you say, 'now, Shizuo' one more fucking time, I think I'm going to-…" His eyes closed automatically, and he snapped forward with a violent, ear-shattering sneeze. Then another. Like everything else about Shizuo, even his sneezes were overly strong. He nearly fell forward off the bed, but Celty kept a hand to his chest. He sniffled powerfully after he was finished, swallowing.

"DAMN that flea," he said, swiping his bare arm under his nose. "I'm going to make him pay for this." Celty stepped in, trying to get Shizuo to use a tissue instead of his own skin, but Shizuo just sniffled again, shaking his head a little.

"He sounded awfully concerned when he called me," Shinra said, rubbing his chin, staring out into the city beyond the window. "Panicked, really." He glanced over at Shizuo to gauge his reaction. Shizuo didn't say anything, but his face was a painted pink color. Shinra leaned forward, cocking a brow.

"Did something… _happen_ between you two?"

The man managed to dodge the punch directed his way, stepping to the side. He had expected it. Celty was just staring. Shinra knew she wasn't wearing an expression, but if she was, it probably would have been akin to "WTF?" Shizuo, unable to do much else besides blush furiously, tried to stand again. Celty and Shinra rushed forward and held him down. He struggled, and it was a difficult feat for the two of them, even together, to hold him back.

"I FEEL FINE, DAMN IT! LET ME UP!"

"Shizuo, you may not feel much of this, but you're _hurt!_ You're not _going anywhere_." Shinra said. They grappled, Shizuo beginning to have the upper hand in the battle. Celty had her hands on his thighs, pinning him down, while Shinra pressed to his shoulders, but his strength could easily overwhelm them. No one said much, aside from Shizuo swearing and Shinra attempting to placate him. It wasn't until a distant look fogged Shizuo's eyes, his breath began to hover, that he ceased his erratic movement. Shinra, at first unsure of Shizuo was doing, leaned a didn't move.

"Shizuo, are you-?"

He didn't get another word in edgewise. Shizuo snapped forward with a tremendous sneeze, the force of his body literally shoving Shinra backwards into Celty, who fell against the floor. After the outburst, Shizuo groaned, sniffling heavily again. Both of the onlookers winced at the watery sound. Celty, this time, forced a tissue against his face.

"Well," Shinra said, straightening his coat. "Bless you."

"Shut up," Shizuo grumbled from behind the papery material. He felt, to put it plainly, like shit. Nothing was _hurting_, but everything was just _uncomfortable._ Plus he was furious. Shinra crossed the room, rooting around in one of his drawers for some Nyquil or something.

"I'm pretty sure you caught that cold because Izaya refused to leave your side."

Shizuo had his head against the pillows, staring at the ceiling, rubbing two fingers along the underside of his nose. He paused when Shinra spoke, a little surprised. He turned over to the side, away from Celty, just in case he made an expression that would give him away.

"What?" he asked. Shinra glanced over, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. He started unscrewing the medicine bottle.

"Izaya. He slept right beside you, sat next to your bed," he said, pouring the greenish liquid into a tiny cup. "You were unconscious for two days, you know."

Two whole days. Shizuo's eyes narrowed. Two whole days of sleeping, and Izaya had sat with him through all of it? Had that night not occurred, Shizuo wouldn't have believed any of it. He would have laughed at Shinra, right in his face. But things had indeed happened between them. It wasn't hard for him to believe it now.

"Why would he do that?" Shizuo asked, closing his eyes to try and mask anything he felt. He didn't want to be sucked into this again. Izaya was nothing but a pest to him. "I'd have killed him, if I woke up." He paused, then sat up a little, using his elbow to prop himself against the pillows.

"Wait," he said. "Where is he now?"

Shinra stared at Shizuo, but was careful not to stare too long, lest he evoke the wrath of the injured blonde. He came over with the Nyquil, offering it to the larger man.

"Left," he said simply. Shizuo took the medicine from Shinra, but didn't lift it to his lips just yet.

"Well, where is he?"

"How would I know, Shizuo?"

"Don't you keep track of your patients, or something?"

"Patient? Shizuo, he was perfectly fine. A little roughed up, maybe, but otherwise fine."

"I thought you said he had a cold."

"He did," Shinra said, now thoroughly confused by the conversation. Just what was Shizuo trying to get at? If he didn't know any better, the guy sounded worried. "But it was only a cold. I'm sure he's over it by now. He's not exactly a push over."

Shizuo seemed unappeased by the whole thing, and then took the Nyquil like a shot. He tossed the cup before Shinra could take it from him, and the doctor scoffed, irritated, as he went to fetch it. Celty stood by Shizuo's bedside, and she rested a cool, covered hand to his forehead. He closed his eyes, feeling the hand with only his skin. He had a suspicion that Izaya had done the same thing while Shizuo was asleep. Stupid flea.

Shinra started speaking again. "So, regardless of whatever happened between the both of you," he said, looking over a few x-rays had taken earlier, "you're not in any condition to work."

Shizuo, out of stubborn reflex, started moving immediately. With a jaded enthusiasm, Celty held him down, patting his chest.

"Bullshit," he said, trying to swat Celty away. "I told you I'm fine!"

Shinra sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he continued to smile. Shizuo was so difficult, sometimes. Shinra could only imagine that he was being defensive about something, and could only assume that "the something" had to do with Izaya. Shaking his head, he threw his arms out.

"You want to be the doctor? Go right ahead," he said. Shizuo set his jaw. "All I'm saying is that this isn't just some ordinary tumble down the stairs, Shizuo. This is bad news."

Shizuo knew that. He knew that his injuries were more on the serious side, but he didn't have time for it. He and Izaya had things to work out, it seemed, if the damn flea had been sleeping with him for the duration of his unconsciousness. That, and being coddled by Shinra and Celty was not his idea of a good time. He didn't want to be hurt. It was inconvenient.

"Don't you think I know that?" Shizuo said. He started to stand, and Celty aided him in doing so. He tipped a bit to the side, frustrated with himself for being so off kilter when it came to moving around. After brushing Celty away, he squared his shoulders. "But it doesn't matter, all right?" He took a step forward. "It can't get in the way of-…. of-…"

Both Celty and Shinra, by now, had learned the tell-tale signs of a Shizuo sneeze, and as he collected a heavy breath, eyes closing, both of them hurriedly sat him back down on the bed. He sneezed once, tremendously, over his lap. Once more after that. The very room shook with their volume, and Shizuo audibly groaned afterwards.

"Fuck."

"Shizuo, try to use nicer words," Shinra said, adjusting the lamp on the end table, as it had gone askew during Shizuo's sudden fit. After that, he crouched down a little to look Shizuo in the eyes.

"Now, here's my advice, if you want to hear it."

Shizuo glared dully, but didn't interrupt. Celty stood by, arms crossed, observing.

"I want you to call Izaya up, and have him take you home-"

"WHAT THE HELL, SHINRA! WHY WOULD I DO THAT?"

Both of the others winced at Shizuo's booming timbre, but felt a pang of pity as it degenerated into wracking coughs. Shizuo's body was in no condition to handle his impossible rage. Celty went to fetch him a glass of water from the sink, while Shinra continued placidly, voice quiet, trying to keep Shizuo from blowing up.

"Listen to me," he said, holding up his hands, palms out. "Just call him up. From what I can understand it's his fault this happened, right? He seemed, for whatever reason, genuinely concerned about you."

Shizuo was fuming, hands crunching into fists. It was all he could do to keep from knocking Shinra into next week. A tiny piece of him, the piece that was embarrassed and flattered by Izaya's worry, stayed his hand.

"You're in terrible shape, Shizuo. To put it bluntly, you can't be alone for at least a week. Your bones and skin may heal quickly, but your nerves are not steel." Shinra leaned towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You need to give yourself a break, all right?"

And while Shizuo hated the man for it, he had to suspect that Shinra, _just maybe_, was a little bit right.

"And unless you want to spend your break here with Celty and I," Shinra said, straightening his coat and adjusting his glasses with a smile, "I suggest you give Izaya a call."

**AN: Well, that wasn't _too_ bad, was it? XD More soon! ^^**


	4. It's Me and You

**AN: Hey guys! It's been a while. Here's chapter four :D. Things are heating up, now. Let me know if I'm OOC XD..**

4) It's Me and You

So that's how it happened. Damn Shinra and his incessant prodding, coupled with the repulsively sympathetic pats he kept getting from Celty, forced him to call the man he _really_ didn't feel like seeing. The one who infuriated him beyond belief, toyed with his emotions to the point of exhaustion, and on top of all that, had shared with him a raging head cold. There was a mild, stifled piece of Shizuo that took a perverse pleasure in seeing Izaya again, but the overwhelming part of him (a part that totaled to about 99%) was unspeakably enraged.

Shizuo, while not in pain, found that he couldn't stand or walk easily without the help of someone else. He had spent his whole life breaking bones, but in this case his brain had taken severe damage, and while there was no permanent injury, he was still addled. That, and his cold made him feel like shit. His body carried a towering immune system, so when a virus managed to work its way into him, the germ was usually a doozy.

He called Izaya shortly after Shinra accused him of being (as the annoying doctor said), "in denial of his true feelings by putting off the call." Now, Shinra didn't know anything about the exchange between he and Izaya that past week, and Shizuo didn't need him suspecting anything. Celty hadn't mentioned it, but enough encouragement from Shinra and she probably would. He called Izaya to shut them both up, to prove to them that he cared so little about Izaya that it didn't bother him to call. It wasn't that he had been ashamed at the time. He just didn't need them pestering him about it. He didn't want the whole world knowing, because Shizuo didn't like to advertise his personal business. He wasn't embarrassed; love was just a nuisance sometimes. He and Izaya's phone conversation had been slightly awkward, mostly because Izaya had nearly recovered and returned to his old self. It went something like this:

"Orihara Izaya, the info broker~! Talking about your biz, that's my shiz~. How can I be of service?"

"_Talking about your biz?_ Is that seriously part of your sales pitch?"

"Of course not, Shizu-chan~. I have caller ID. That was a special mantra just for you."

"… Whatever, you damn flea."

A small, almost uncomfortable silence.

"Well, Shizu-chan~?"

"…Well, what?"

"_You_ called _me_. You tell me what, silly~."

Shizuo bristled at his tone. Since that one night, with his mouth on Izaya's, everything just seemed so awkward now. He couldn't stand being reminded of it, especially when Izaya used little endearments like that.

"Don't call me 'silly.' Shizu-chan's bad enough as it is."

"You don't like your nick name~?"

"Hell no!"

Izaya feigned shock, voice light. "Appalling~! Shizu-chan, I'm _hurt~!_"

"Fuck, Izaya! Keep this up, and you really _will_ be hurt. I don't have the patience for you today."

There was another silence, and then Izaya sort of cleared his throat. Things got a little serious as Shizuo heard the shuffling of feet on the other side of the phone. Car horns. Izaya was out walking around. The informant sniffled, the traces of his waning cold still hanging on. Aside from that, he sounded perfectly fine.

"Really, Shizu-chan~. I have work to do. What is it that you want?"

On the other side of the phone, Shizuo's throat caught. He _never_ asked for help._ Never_. He never really needed it. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ help from some people, sometimes. He just had gotten so used to doing things by himself, unless absolutely necessary, that this was strange for him. And asking the flea for help was doubly, even triply hard.

"I…"

"Yes, Shizu-chan~? Go on."

"I-…" There was a sudden catch in his breath, a gathering grimace, and then Shizuo doubled over himself with an earth-shaking sneeze, right against the phone. Then another. And another. A desperate breath, a snagging inhale, and the last one boomed throughout the small space. Shinra, mouth slightly ajar, smiled to mask his look of horror at the fact that Shizuo had just germ-sprayed his office phone. Shizuo recovered, sniffling, rubbing his face with his hand.

"Fuck," he said, letting it out on a groan.

The sneezes had been so loud, and so unexpected, that Izaya had actually jumped a little when the first one barreled through. He winced, and had held the phone out at arm's length for the remaining three. When Shizuo swore, he pasted the phone back to his ear, grinning broadly.

"Someone sounds like he's come down with a sniffle~," he said. Shizuo erupted into rage immediately.

"WELL WHO'S THE BASTARD WHO FUCKING GAVE IT TO ME IN THE FIRST PLACE? AFTER HAVING YOU RUB YOUR DAMN NOSE ON ME ALL NIGHT, IT'S NO BIG SURPRISE!"

Shinra and Celty jumped, glancing at one another. Shizuo's body, fending off infection, really wasn't up to the task of handling his incredible rage, so he degenerated into a series of throat-clawing coughs. Most of them, at the insistence of both Celty and Shinra, were directed into his fist. Celty didn't have any germs to worry about, really, but she privately cared for Shinra's own health. She didn't need _him_ getting sick. Izaya tutted him, scolding him quietly, voice deep.

"You shouldn't strain yourself, Shizu-chan~," he said, grinning still. But his mouth was a little dry. So the tables had turned, hm? He wasn't the helpless one anymore. Surprisingly, and rather ironically, it was Shizuo who needed help. That was probably why he called.

"Shut the-…hell up," Shizuo said, panting a little to catch his breath. His vision pulsed, ears ringing. He didn't really register what Izaya was saying, but he wanted him to shut up anyway. He sniffled deeply, feeling the thickness rise up high into his throat, and he twitched at the raw weight as it slid down his esophagus. God, being sick was fucking disgusting.

When Shizuo didn't say anything, Izaya swallowed and shifted the phone to his other ear. As much as he didn't want to, he worried. If only just a little. Seeing Shizuo sprawled on the pavement, bloody and disoriented, had been enough to remind Izaya that Shizuo was human (at least partly) and that meant he was prone to weakness and injury. The man couldn't just brush off _everything_, even if he liked to pretend he could.

"Shizu-chan~?" Izaya used a soft voice, and when Shizuo answered him with a groan, the informant continued grinning. His voice took on a playful, sardonic tone. "As much as I enjoy our intellectual conversations, I'm afraid I must-"

Shizuo's husky voice cut him off. Due to his blooming cold, his normally resounding tenor had dropped half-an-octave and gained a scratchy, soggy quality.

"Hold on," he said. He cleared his throat, mentally wrestling with something. Izaya knew that Shizuo wasn't the brightest bulb in the room, so he waited patiently for a moment. Then his mocking impulse took over.

"Try not to hurt yourself, Shizu-chan~."

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Cue the coughing, the groaning. Izaya just chuckled. This cold had really laid the man low, and how fitting that Izaya had been the one to give it to him. He should have thought of it years ago. Izaya jogged across the street, grabbed onto a telephone pole with his free hand and swung around it, still smiling.

"You certainly don't sound well~," he said, still spinning. "No condition for a spar, I assume."

"Izaya."

The Izaya in question ceased his movement, stopping in his tracks. His stomach, even as he cursed himself, slowly turned over. Shizuo had breathed his name on such a low, quiet voice. He sounded so-…needy. Izaya was well aware of the human tendency to revert to juvenile behavior when ill, especially in the case of men, but he had never expected Shizuo to stoop so low. He opened his mouth to speak, but Shizuo's voice drifted from the phone again.

"I need-…" He paused. This was so hard for him. He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth, before speaking through them. "I need you to…"

Izaya waited, eyes huge. What could Shizuo possibly _need_ from him? They were mortal enemies. Granted, they had recently experienced a strange, romantic connection, but that was not a part of the equation. They factored that out a few days ago. He frowned slightly, pressing the phone a little harder against his ear when Shizuo mumbled.

"Shizu-chan, I can't hear you," he said on a sigh. "You really ought to work on that tendency to mumble~."

"I didn't fucking mumble!" The reply was delivered soundly, with a watery sniff to punctuate it. Shizuo continued, repeating himself in a louder voice. "Need you to let me crash at your place."

Izaya didn't say anything. Shizuo really couldn't have just said that. When there was no reply from the flea, Shizuo pressed on, feeling more than a little embarrassed. And that just made him frustrated.

"Only for a day," he said. "Less than a day."

Izaya could hear Shinra, faintly, in the background, chastising the bodyguard. Shizuo grumped, then spoke into the phone again.

"Maybe more than a day," he amended, then quickly threw on the last bit. "But not long. Don't think _I'm_ asking, either. It's damn Shinra."

Damn Shinra? Izaya's eyes narrowed. Now, what could the cheerful doctor be doing to force Shizuo into something like living with "the flea?" Izaya had spent a few days with Shizuo, sitting next to his bed, sometimes sharing the bed with him (unbeknownst to the patient) when Izaya got tired. While Shizuo was asleep, Izaya could watch him, touch him, without having to fight him. When they weren't themselves, weren't awake, they were free to treat each other in a gentler, kind way. It was easy to love Shizuo when he was sleeping. His face still carried the customary "I'm slightly pissed" expression, but he wasn't truly angry when he wasn't awake. Once Shinra deemed him stable, and liable to wake, Izaya left and didn't really plan on seeing Shizuo again until the guy was back on the job, ripping up street signs.

A piece of him was now pleased that he wouldn't have to wait so long. The other piece was terrified. Nervous. Like going on a date, except this date was going to last at least a few days, and it was with someone whom he didn't get along with. How exactly would this go? His mind sifted through scenarios, trying to rationalize any behavior that Shizuo could exhibit. It wasn't until the man in question spoke that Izaya realized how long he had been quiet.

"You know what? Fuck it. I'll just stay here," he said. Izaya couldn't puzzle out the emotion in his voice. Was it disappointment, or disgust?

"No," Izaya said. He hoped he hadn't said it too quickly. "No, you can stay with me." The dark haired informant grinned, swiveling once more around the pole and then letting go, jogging for a few steps down the sidewalk. "I mean, it's not like we haven't slept together before~."

Izaya predicted Shizuo's response. He fumbled, then growled, then yelled, "WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT SLEEPING TOGETHER?" Unfortunetly, Shizuo just couldn't seem to understand that when a person yells, the throat gets put under stress. He started coughing, this time a little more forcefully. Izaya sighed and shook his head.

"No one, Shizu-chan. My goodness, get your mind out of the gutter~!"

He relished this. Talking with him like this. It always amused him, made him laugh. But when Shizuo didn't really offer a rebuttal, other than a moan, it made the game far less fun. He switched ears again, holding the phone with his shoulder and neck as he took a guard rail in both hands. The wind ruffled his hair.

"Shizu-chan?"

"Izaya?" It wasn't Shizuo that spoke. It was Shinra. Izaya took the phone in his hand again.

"What happened to Shizu-chan?"

"I'm keeping him from losing his voice," Shinra said, smiling with a slight chuckle in his voice. Shizuo still sat in bed, arms crossed, glaring up at Shinra while Celty offered him some water. He waved her off. Shinra put a hand on his hip, smirking a little.

"So, I'm guessing you're all right with letting Shizuo bunk with you for a while?"

Izaya shrugged, even if there was no one around to see it. The answer was buried in his jittering heart. Yes, yes. A thousand times yes. Shizuo in his home, too rattled to fight-... It was a one in a million chance. But Izaya's dignity kept him from admitting that too quickly.

"I suppose," he said, pretending to weight the options. "As long as he behaves."


	5. Sleeping Over

**AN: Sorry it's been so long since my last update T_T... I've been SO BUSY.. I'm not that happy with this chapter. I think I'm losing Shizuo and Izaya's characters D':... I humbly apologize if this turns into an OOC fest XD..**

5) Sleeping Over

Izaya lounged in his apartment, arms folded behind his head, leg crossed, jacket hanging on a hook by the door. He had his shoes off, his feet coated in his black socks that matched his black pants and black shirt. Namie, who was standing by one of the large windows in their apartment, kept her arms crossed. While Izaya smiled, she glared.

"And why is he coming to stay with us again?"

Izaya chuckled, eyes still closed. He didn't so much as move a muscle. "Because, Namie," he said. "We keep our friends close, and our enemies closer."

Namie's eyes narrowed, face tightening. "Somehow, I doubt that's the issue." Izaya said nothing to her after that, and seemed nonplussed by her comment. She turned, whipping her long hair behind her as she stormed into the kitchen.

She didn't want to seem obvious. She wasn't _angry_, per say. She didn't hate Shizuo or anything. But she hated what he had become to Izaya. She had been forced to watch Mika steal away her brother, the love of her life in so many ways, and now she felt that it was happening again. Namie didn't love Izaya, though her cheeks tinted at the thought. She busied herself with dinner and Shizuo's futon, trying to keep her mind from it. Yet it still pervaded her every movement, her every passing muse. It made her so uncomfortable and disappointed.

She and Izaya were business partners, nothing more. There was no foundation other than that. Even so, they had been living together for a while, and she could stomach his idiosyncrasies. She dealt with him, cooked for him, watched him and assessed his weaknesses. She knew he was a lonely man, a sociopathic individual with no hope for a stable, normal relationship. She pitied him and despised him at once, and she wondered if that was love.

Her thoughts fled from her mind as she felt hands at her hips. Her body tensed, but she had been with Izaya long enough to know that she should never show vulnerability when dealing with him. It was a recipe for humiliation.

"What now?" she asked. She didn't look over her shoulder at him, not wanting to egg him on. She stood in front of the sink, putting dishes in the drying rack, trying to clean up after the beast she lived with.

"Namie, how close are we?"

She balked at the question, unsure of whether it was a trap or a rare moment of connection. She chanced a glance at his face, and he wasn't smiling. She really couldn't tell if he was being serious.

"I don't know. Why does that matter?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, sniffling once and looking towards the door.

The portal that would deliver Shizuo.

Namie stared into his eyes. Determining Izaya's thoughts was like predicting the weather. You can try to get it right, but there is never an answer until you see it first-hand. Begrudgingly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a soft pack of tissue, forcing them into his hand.

"Wipe your nose, will you?"

She took him off guard and he covered the lower half of his face with the edge of his hand. She smirked at him, the owlish look in his eyes. He was a curious individual, this man. His surprise was her favorite emotion.

"I told you that you'd get sick."

He had a tissue pasted to his nose, not meeting her eyes. He turned his back to her, but continued to talk in the borderline-pompous tone he had.

"Hardly. If I was, I'm practically cured."

"Probably because you gave it to your lover while you were sleeping with him."

The jab came out of nowhere, and it was hopelessly cold and well-placed. Izaya felt the comment slice right through him, hitting all the soft areas inside him. It made him irritated that she said it so loftily, and guilty because it was true. It also reminded him how rotten Shizuo would be when he arrived. He couldn't think of anything to say back to her, so he considered it best to say nothing at all, and appear as if her snide remark had no effect on him.

Despite the new heat on his face, he felt no real shame. So what if he felt something for Shizu-chan? How was that any of her business anyway? What went on between them was only their concern. He and Shizuo's. No one else's. Who else would want to know, in any case?

Izaya only smirked at Namie, tossing his tissue in a waste bin as he passed it by, flopping again on his couch. He stretched out on it, sighing a bit. He needed to relax. The Orihara was trying very hard to appear impassive, but Shizuo's dawning visit was seriously stressing him out. He wouldn't know what to say to him, and Namie of course would just make the situation all that more awkward. Namie herself kept her distance, standing in the eve of the kitchen where Izaya had left her, arms crossed, hip cocked.

Hopefully Shizuo wouldn't be a handful. She couldn't handle two troublesome men in the house. It was hard enough dealing with one. Izaya, with all his grandeur and pomposity; his games and office desk and constant dark schemes. Her eyes softened as memories feathered through her consciousness, and as much as she didn't want to smile, she had to. He was a horrible person most of the time and a damn annoying one at that…but he had made her life very, very interesting. He had lulled her into a sense of self-importance that many humans never experience in a lifetime. She pressed fingers to her temples. He even had her talking about "humans" to herself.

Both of them, Izaya and Namie, started at the sharp rap on the door. They were rendered frozen by it, neither moving while urging the other to move without words or cues, until Izaya finally stood and crossed the room. He stopped in front of the door, taking a short breath and smoothing back his hair before opening it.

"Hello, there~!" He said it in what he hoped to be his normal tone. He kept his eyes nearly shut at first, on purpose, for seeing Shizuo after the other night was sure to be disarming. Izaya wasn't wrong.

Heiwajima Shizuo stood heavily, hands in his pockets, not amused and unabashed by the situation. His eyes were ringed with fatigue, the lilac imprints beneath them standing out against his light skin. His hair, which was always a little askew, seemed even more so. He still hadn't recovered his glasses so he looked bare without them, and he sniffled frequently and rather forcibly through what sounded like clogged sinuses. Izaya stared at him. It was such a stark contrast between the typical Shizuo, that Izaya had become a little speechless. It took him off guard.

Shizuo leaned lightly on Shinra, who had aided the man in getting to Izaya's apartment. Shizuo vehemently rejected a wheelchair and the crutches, so Shinra was forced to escort the blonde down the street. Shizuo, after losing so much fluid, was still quite off kilter when it came to standing up, let alone walking, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Shinra glanced from Izaya (who seemed mesmerized by Shizuo) and Shizuo (who seemed too worn out to really care about anything at this point). When no one spoke, the doctor cleared his throat.

"Well," he said, smiling and giving Shizuo a light pat on the back. "Here we are!"

"Yes, here we are," Izaya said. He managed to pry his eyes from Shizuo, grateful that the blonde didn't seem coherent enough (or just plain interested enough) to notice his lengthy bout of staring. "And glad to be here, I'm sure."

Shinra laughed, nodding, adjusting his glasses. "Of course, of course." He stepped inside, pulling Shizuo along, who continuously sniffled, seemingly without any tissues or hankies to speak of. "Namie, good to see you."

Namie gave a polite, almost cheeky wave to Shinra from her stance near the kitchen. She wrinkled her nose a bit at Shizuo. The man was sick as a dog. Funny that the resident superhero of Ikebukuro seemed to be hit hardest by a cold. Granted, he had suffered serious wounds as well, but wasn't that a regular thing for him? She mused on this, staring into the distance, when something like thunder shattered through the house.

Shizuo doubled over, holding his sleeve to his face as he released a sneeze that nearly shook the room. Izaya kept himself from jumping, managed to keep a straight face, though Namie gasped a bit in surprise. Shinra, having heard at least a dozen Shizuo sneezes that day, just endured it and pressed on after it was over, blessing the Heiwajima with a jaded cadence.

"Gesundheit, Shizuo," he said, before looking over at Izaya. "So, the biggest concern is his mobility, since he's not exactly steady on his feet just yet-"

Shizuo spoke for the first time since he entered the residence. His voice sounded like the guttural warnings of some great animal, like a bear or wolf. "Stop talking about me like I'm not fucking here!"

Izaya, standing simply in his black slacks and long-sleeve tee, smiled as he crossed his arms, holding up one finger. "No, I understand completely Shinra. He won't be going anywhere unattended," he said. Then he looked squarely at Shizuo, grinning. "Not even to the bathroom."

Shizuo's pale face blanched further, if that was at all possible, and he made a furious movement to strangle Izaya. Shinra kept him back, but his heels were sliding on the carpet. Shizuo's strength didn't necessarily diminish, even with the severity of his cold.

"Shizuo! Calm down, it was just a joke!" Shinra tried to laugh it off, but he strained to control the determined Heiwajima. Izaya just smirked and stared at him. Namie had a hand over her forehead, eyes closed, silently pleading with any gods that might be listening to help her through the ordeal.

After a few minutes Shizuo lost his momentum, and slumped against the wall, a bit winded. Namie ventured towards him, giving Shinra a nod as she did so. Without words she said, _I'll take care of this one for a moment. You handle the other one._ When she reached him, he stared at her blandly, temper sputtering into a dull, flicking flame. He was too tired, feeling too rotten to pick a fight with anyone. Namie had never been close to Shizuo, or even spoken with him much. Since he was Izaya's sworn enemy, she never affiliated with him unless Izaya had some sort of plans involving him. She never thought in a million years she'd be shacking him up in her home. She placed one of her hands on his forehead, assessing his fever, and he permitted her (with a grudging acceptance) to do so. She frowned immediately. He felt very hot.

Izaya watched them from the corner of his eye. It irked him that Namie, someone who hardly knew Shizuo, was touching him like that. Izaya, being much more important to Shizuo (since Shizuo _did_ want to kill him and all), should be the one to do such things. Izaya did despise Shizuo, certainly; but he despised him on such a high level, it would be difficult for a mere human to understand it. Shizuo was not just "a piece of humanity." He was an individual; one of the only people Izaya noticed and chose to acknowledge as something more than just a simple pawn in a game. Shizuo was fun to manipulate and watch, but he was also a challenge. Izaya like that in a person. So he was annoyed to have Namie treating him like that, and it annoyed Izaya that he was annoyed by something like that. Shinra cleared his throat. Izaya shook his head clear of his thoughts.

"Yes, sorry? What else did you want?"

Shinra pulled a short list from his pocket. "These are just some reminders. He's on a few medications for the brain trama, and you might have to change some of his bandages. More than anything he needs rest." Shinra smiled as he handed the list to Izaya, trusting the sociopath with it. "He'll be up and about in no time!"

"Wonderful," Izaya said, but he wasn't really listening. He glanced over the list, not really reading, and placed it on a stack of papers on his desk nearby. "We'll be sure to take good care of Shizu-chan."

Shizuo perked up at his horrid nickname, glaring at Izaya, before his expression grew distant in preparation of another sneeze. Namie, with quick reflexes, pinned a hanky over Shizuo's nose and mouth before he let loose. The force of his sneeze shook Namie's frame, and judging by her expression, she really hated to be holding the handkerchief at the time of the sneeze. He straightened up sluggishly.

"Fuck."

Namie crossed her arms, leaving him to tend to his own nose. She held an air of distaste. "Please try to cover your mouth. If I get sick, this whole place is going to fall apart."

Izaya didn't bother to address her on that, because it was a little bit true. She was a helpful secretary and took very good care of the house. He needed her for her services, not her company. If she got sick, he would have to do all that crap he didn't have time for.

Shinra waved goodbye to all of them, smiling as he did so. On the inside, he was a bit glad to be rid of Shizuo. He cared for him certainly, but a sick Shizuo was a destructive Shizuo who was not only in a worse mood than usual, but also contagious and a little on the disgusting side. Not only that, but he and Celty enjoyed their privacy. Adding another to the house would just make it crowded. Now, he was Izaya's problem.

But as he walked down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, he couldn't help but wonder if handing Shizuo over to Izaya was the right decision…He stewed on it, staring at the blue sky with all its clouds and soundless air. Then he shrugged, smiling brightly again.

"At the very worst, they try to kill each other. And Namie's sensible enough to put a stop to something like that." He told that to himself, and didn't bother to explore the fact that Namie would gladly have Izaya dead.

With hope, everyone would make it out alive.


	6. Settling In

**AN: Did you guys think I died LOL?.. OMG, I don't know HOW my life got so busy. I lost inspiration for this a little, but all you wonderful, reviewing people helped me get back on track :D. Since I'm a little rusty coming back into this, I apologize for any OOC-ness (again LOL) that may occur. Due to the fact that we're so deep into the story, and most of the stuff that's happening is atypical of the DRRR universe, this has become a challenge to write convincingly, and I feel like the characters have too many mood swings :D. I'll try and finish this story strong ^_^.. If anything is out of place or need improvement, just let me know :D.. Thanks everyone! LOVE YOU ALL! *huggle***

6. Settling In

As soon as Shinra shut the door, it was as though a spell was broken. Everyone in the room, all three of them, came to terms with what exactly was happening.

Namie realized, first of all, that her life was going to be a living hell for the next few days. Not only would she have Izaya to trouble her, but also a wounded, ill man with whom Izaya did not get along. That, and the fact that both men seemed to have some sort of abnormal relationship involving a violent and unhealthy love for one another, made everything that much harder.

Izaya realized that he was both overwhelmingly glad and terrified that Shizuo was in his home. He had never had Shizuo over before, for obvious reasons. The raven-haired informant also took notice of the stifling atmosphere. They were all very tense. Izaya couldn't tell if he cared deeply for Shizuo or not. He knew that Shizuo was important to him, but on what level? The other night had been a moderate experiment, but they had come to a dead end. What other paths could they take together? More importantly, what would this new development lead to? The possibilities swirled in Izaya's head in neat rows, marching across his psyche in order of probability and preference. The Orihara smiled, but only a little.

Shizuo simply realized that he, in a moment of despicable weakness, allowed himself to be escorted to the one (the one and ONLY) place that he would never want to be: the very sanctum of his sworn enemy. And then he realized all that Izaya had done to him in the past week, and how inconvenient the flea had made things for him, like always. A light prickle in his head, making his eye twitch, reminded him of the accident in the road. The pressure in his sinuses was the result of Izaya's germs. Everything that led up to this moment felt like Izaya's fault.

Struck with a sudden spear of injustice, Shizuo sprung onto Izaya and pinned him to the ground. The whole thing happened so fast, the other two suitemates had little time to act. Namie, at first rushing towards them, decided to hang back for a second. After all, watching this man beat the snot out of Izaya for a little bit would brighten her mood.

Izaya couldn't move, his wrists viced in Shizuo's strong and capable hands. He could feel the dry, sparking heat beneath the blonde's skin, feel Shizuo's soggy breath near his neck. Despite the man's blatant fatigue, he still mustered enough energy to keep up their little routine.

"I'll kill you, you bastard," Shizuo said. His voice grated against his throat, cracking. "Are you _trying_ to ruin my life?"

Izaya only grinned in response, body limp and relaxed. If he didn't fight it, if he didn't tense up, the impact would hurt less. It would also lull Shizuo into a state of false security, so Izaya could strike at the most opportune time.

"Now, Shizu-chan~! Whatever let you to that conclusion?" The tone wasn't without sarcasm, and Shizuo's hands tightened around Izaya's tender wrists, squeezing them like a snake would strangle its prey.

"Everything you do, you piece of shit," he growled, "you do to make things harder for me. I want to know _why_."

All this talking was disarming Izaya, allowing doubt to bubble up like humid air-pockets on a hot day. It wasn't like Shizuo to be so chatty, or question something like this. Shizuo was more of a fighter than a talker. Izaya was the talker.

The man with the raven hair averted his eyes to Namie, still grinning, still calm. "Since when are you so interested in my plans, Shizu-chan~? This is unlike you."

A sharp flash of pain, and then a rising surge of heat coursed through Izaya's left cheek, and it took him a moment to realize that he got slugged in the face.

"Scum," Shizuo said, punching him again, this time in the other cheek. It was enough to send blood swirling in Izaya's mouth. "What even _are_ you?" The blonde lifted Izaya by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close to his face. Izaya could smell the smoke on his breath. Even when he had a cold, the man still smoked.

Namie smiled, head cocked, enjoying it immensely. Perhaps she would get along with Shizuo better than she thought. He was quite a contender. Despite having suffered serious damage to an essential, fragile organ, Shizuo was still able to kick ass.

Though, naturally, Izaya was no push over. It took the informant a moment, but eventually he managed to roll Shizuo over and alternate the positions, so Izaya was on top. The blonde was caged beneath him.

"The question is never _what_, Shizu-chan. It's _who_," he said, his knees digging into Shizuo's stomach. The ex-bartender had Izaya's wrists in his firm grasps, squeezing them so hard that Izaya had to focus in order not to yell out. He still grinned, smile never leaving his face. He would smile until his death, if that was the case.

"If you don't know _who_ I am by now, Shizuo," he said, leaning down a little, his mouth near Shizuo's ear. "Perhaps we're not as close as I thought."

Shizuo teeth gritted, temper heating out of control. It was one thing to chase the flea down the street. It was entirely another to be pinned under the parasite, sick with his cold, injured because of Izaya's stupidity. What made Shizuo the angriest was the fact that he could shake that ridiculous, warm feeling that Izaya gave him sometimes. He didn't want to feel that anymore. He chalked it up to his fever, but that didn't fix anything. Shizuo started thrashing, trying to shake Izaya off. He yelled at the top of his voice.

"WE'RE NOT CLOSE AT ALL, FLEA! YOU'RE A PAIN IN THE ASS! I HATE YOU! HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE!" Even his bottomless rage couldn't express his distaste adequately enough. There were no words for this kind of feeling. It was hot, and fierce, and nearly untamable. Izaya only chuckled as Shizuo struggled.

"Don't throw a tantrum, Shizu-chan. It's unbecoming~!" Izaya peered closely at Shizuo's face; at the emotions written there. The man felt so strongly, with all his heart. Whether it was rage, or injustice, or the occasional shine of happiness, Shizuo reacted to everything with an extra push of vigor. Izaya, with a squirming realization, found that he considered this to be incredibly attractive.

Shizuo wasn't on the same page, at the moment. He kicked and kicked, managing to knock Izaya so hard in the jaw that the informant saw stars for a second. Unfortunately, his energy was waning, and the need to sneeze was inflating in his sinuses. Shizuo ceased violent movement, panting, glaring up at Izaya.

"You bastard," he breathed, chest heaving. "I'll-... kill you yet."

Izaya shuddered at the rusty baritone as it flowed through the room like silk. Shizuo got him every time when he spoke low like that. The blonde froze after a second, sensing Izaya's heat. Shizuo could feel the man's rising want against his body, and it made him sick.

"You're disgusting," he said, face beginning to scrunch not only in severe disdain, but in need of something else. Izaya took a second to recover mentally from his faux-pas, though his lips never stopped curving upward.

"I think you like it," he said, voice a whisper. He let his thumbs rub at the sensitive skin on the underside of Shizuo's wrists, causing the blonde to gasp without meaning to. A burst of pain exploded at Izaya's inner thigh as Shizuo tried to knee him. Apparently, the bodyguard wasn't above that sort of thing. Izaya laughed at him, leering down into his personal space. "Fighting dirty, Shizu-chan~?"

Shizuo, despite his most fervent wishes, couldn't keep his eyes from closing, and his lips from parting. The feeling that teased at the back of his throat would no longer be ignored. His body went limp in preparation, and Izaya took the opportunity to worm out of his grip. He stayed nearby, though, running a finger down the length of Shizuo's nose, grinning. That was enough to set off not only Shizuo, but someone else as well.

Namie had been growing more and more disconcerted the longer she had watched them. Shizuo was enraged beyond comprehension, mostly because of his circumstances and Izaya's existence, but Izaya seemed-... turned on. Shizuo was doing nothing but screaming about how much he _loathed_ the man, but Izaya seemed impishly delighted.

That's when it hit her: Izaya was a sociopath. Of course he would confuse hate with love, and vice versa. The man was so insane, it was a wonder he could function at all. He had never played well with others, but now there was a genuine desire to reside with another. Play with Shizuo. It revolted her and stung her all at once, and she was surprised by the latter. Shizuo's violent sneezing stirred her thoughts, as it was impossible to keep a train of thought when his bodily function sounded like a gun going off.

He sneezed once, twice, thrice, _four_ times in a row with his body snapping forward each time, before he collapsed back onto the floor and lay there, dazed. Izaya sat with his knees to his chest, cheek resting on his left kneecap, one of his hands playing in Shizuo's hair. The harsh exertion over the past few minutes, coupled with the relief of much-needed nasal expulsion, seemed to placate the beast. He closed his eyes, rubbing one with the heel of his hand. He did growl though when he felt Izaya lay a hand on his forehead. Rusty-reddish eyes roved the blonde's face, appearing almost soft. However, the wicked smile and shadow to his face still remained. Namie couldn't tell if it was a guise or not.

"Shizu-chan has a bad fever," Izaya mused, turning his hand over to test Shizuo's temperature with the back of his hand as well. "He shouldn't over exert himself."

Shizuo swallowed, throat now sore from bellowing his guts out at the flea. Pieces of him couldn't stand his smell or touch, though deep, repressed, shy portions of his heart relished in it. He started pushing himself up off the floor, but Izaya caught him, pressing the center of his chest.

"Ah, ah, Shizuo-chan~," he tutted, shifting his position to sit on his knees. "You can't go anywhere without my attendance~!"

Namie nearly retched at the tone Izaya was using with him. Some kind of cute, annoying-as-hell tone that he only used when he was especially pleased with himself. The whole display started to grate on her for many reasons known and unknown. Shizuo snapped at Izaya, though he lacked much of his volatile energy. He had spent it all for the moment. His body was a little too tired to feel irrepressibly frustrated right now.

"Go to hell, Izaya," he said, and he meant it. Izaya only grinned, closing his eyes at the response. This visit wouldn't be bad at all. In fact, the Orihara could feel the rising satisfaction of a golden opportunity. He hadn't realized it before, but Heiwajima was in pretty bad shape. Comparatively to other humans, he was making a splendid recovery, but relatively (to Shizuo's own standards) the blonde wasn't taking this bout of injuries as well as expected.

Namie chose this moment to step in, mostly because she couldn't stomach Izaya's behavior anymore. She approached, and couldn't help but acknowledge Izaya's almost predatory stare in her direction. It faded as soon as it had come, but she noted it in the back of her mind. Hand on her hips, she stared down at the sniffling Shizuo, sighing at his appearance. Shinra wouldn't be too happy if she let the man leave here worse than he had come. She started nudging Izaya with the toe of her rustic brown pump.

"In all seriousness, you are making him worse," she said. They challenged each other with their eyes. "Go into the kitchen and start making pot stickers." Her dismissive tone set him off on a bad vibe, though he grinned and leered all the same. Shizuo started trying to heft himself up, but nearly toppled to one side due to his balance issue. Namie caught his arm. She could feel the heat of his skin, and also the tenseness to his muscles. Being in this situation, feeling as shitty as he did, really bothered him, didn't it? The woman could see it in his eyes; the strain, the rolling anger, the acceptance. Izaya took Shizuo's other arm, pulling at it a bit.

"I'll show Shizu-chan to his room," he said, tone even, but there was an edge to it. "Why don't _you_ start the pot stickers. That is your job, isn't it?"

The cadence of his voice irked her, and she gave Shizuo's arm a tug back. "I do not feel comfortable leaving you alone with him. You will kill him."

"That's a little harsh, Namie. Goodness~!" He smirked, showing his teeth. "I'm no murderer, am I?"

Her eyes slitted, heart jumping. God, she hated herself for being attracted to that. She would never let him know how hot he got her when he acted like an ass. It was infuriating, but wonderful. Sparring with him was fresh and often invigorating. Realization washed over her when she wondered if fighting was Shizuo did the same for him.

"You are murder_ous_," she said, holding her head high. "I am convinced you have no heart, Orihara. There is no place for such a thing in that body."

"Oh~?" It was his turn to narrow his eyes, and he leaned towards her over Shizuo's shoulder. "This coming from the woman who stares humanity in the face and spits on it? At least I have the decency to respect such intricate creations such as yourself."

The comment befuddled her, because she couldn't tell if it was a jab or a compliment. The former was normal, and the latter was frightening. And exciting. And wonderful. She cursed at herself when she felt her face fade pink. Shizuo, sick of being stuck in a strange game of tug of war, finally spoke up. He shook them both away, wobbling like a drunk towards the hall.

"Both of you are as annoying as hell," he said gruffly, leaning his arm against the hallway wall when he reached it. He panted with an oncoming sneeze, and braced himself so he wouldn't fall. It ripped through him like thunder, and after repeating the process once more, he straightened up and staggered towards what he believed to be a guest bedroom.

Namie and Izaya were left standing together. One of them was tense and cagey, the other was slightly disappointed and nonchalant. Naime eyes bored into the side of Izaya's head, wondering if they could have the power of bullets, so she could kill him. She wanted so badly to make him suffer, experiment on his complicated, crazy brain so she might understand him. Understand him, so she might love him in the way he could accept. She had wanted so badly to care for him when he was ill, but he spent all his damn recovery time at Shinra's with Shizuo. Namie wanted to break his arm, sever his body, so she might sew him back up and make love to him as she did. It was a disturbing, unsettling thought that she pushed away immediately, shifting her gaze to his eyes, and following his line of sight to the stumbling Shizuo.

Namie thought about how she might ensure a submissive Izaya, so she might surprise him into feeling love.

Izaya thought about how he might squeeze his way into Shizuo's bed, and watch the man breath until morning, listening to the strong heartbeats embedded in their bodies.

Shizuo thought about sleep, tissues, and a possible method to keep that son of a bitch out of his room long enough to regain his strength, so he might beat the shit out of Izaya later.

**AN: So what do you guys think? Good?.. I didn't mean for it to end up this way, but it looks like there's going to be a Namie vs. Shizuo vs. Izaya cage match going on in the next few chapters. Maybe a chapter for each person to analyze their feelings or something sappy like that? Tell me what you think in the reviews! ^_^**


	7. The Rub

7. The Rub

Unfortunately for all parties involved, only one plan succeeded in propelling itself into being. Again, unfortunately, it was Izaya's plan that won out.

Namie's plan was humble and self-serving, but she was a deluded woman who scorned the face of love. She could not hope to understand Izaya's affection, and therefore could do nothing about it. Her plan was a failure.

Izaya, on the other hand, executed his whole-heartedly. Shizuo, in his bleary hurry to get to a warm bed, had carelessly forgotten to lock the door, giving Izaya an open window into his room. Of course, had the door been locked, Izaya would have fished out a key. This was his apartment, anyhow.

Naturally, due to Izaya's success and the fact that he and Shizuo's schemes were in direct conflict, Shizuo had no hope to win anything from the deal. The only thing the ex-bartend could do was pray. Pray for his poor, sorry ass and that Shinra might sail in to save it before morning.

So, my friends. This is how it panned out. I present to you, the rub.

As he lay on his back in the strange, tight sheets, eyes too heavy to keep open but body too tired to sleep, Shizuo started to remember how shitty life was when he was sick. He hadn't been sick in what seemed like eons. Ages. Had he ever been sick? He couldn't recall.

But then again, forgetting his sufferings was natural for him. He couldn't tell you what it felt like to break a bone, because he hadn't done it in a while. And even if someone snapped his leg in half tomorrow, he would probably detect nothing more than a nagging ache and an inhibition to walk. He blamed the uncommonly acute pains in his arm last week on Izaya's presence and the apparent onset of his damned cold. Now his arm felt fine.

Of course now, he could no longer hope to feel or perceive anything through the knee-deep layer of cotton stuffed in his sinuses. The blonde narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, baring his teeth.

"Damn you, Izaya." He blinked as he managed to make-out his voice. It was a baritone croak compared to his usual soft but firm tone. Like some sort of fucking toad or something. It irked him, but didn't so much embarrass him as it did anger him

Most of his emotions translated into anger. Hell, he was pretty sure he got angry-happy some of the time. A few of his most joyous moments paramounted in a display of vigorous violence. He sniffled deeply, trying to breathe, pull thickness back into his nose as his blinking eyes watched the bleak ceiling. He wondered, vaguely if not a little worriedly, what would happen if he made love with somebody.

He'd probably get mad, like he did with everything else. And he was so strong, so powerful. He often hurt people without even touching them, and if he did, he was too blind to really notice. Some if not all of his greatest mistakes were unintentional, which is common in people.

Shizuo never meant to hurt innocent, kind people that he either liked or was indifferent to. It often just happened. Moments in his life when he could fight and move with all of his strength, all of his power, were few and far between. Shizuo was always holding back, always fretting. He didn't make it a point to drag it into dinner conversation, but it was something that constantly occupied the back of his mind.

Much like the fluttering, sinus-tickle of his cold harbored at the back of his nose. He snorted against it, rubbing his face into his pillow, as if to itch it away. To no avail, naturally. Wrinkling his nose, he growled under his breath.

"Dammit," he said. It was just so irritating. Much like Izaya was. Right there, prodding at him, antagonizing him, but always out of his reach. Just grazing the skin of his fingertips. Tantalizing. Torturous. Maddening.

There were times when they met and confronted one another, and in most of these instances (if not all, much to Shizuo's chagrin) ended in Izaya's favor. Shizuo hardly ever beat the flea. His victory count was pitifully low. Izaya, simply for some unknown and damnable reason, always won.

Which was exactly what the sneeze culminating in his nasal membranes was doing now-winning. Shizuo's eyes fogged and squinted, lips pulling back from his teeth in a grimace. Now that he equated unwanted sneezing and his cold in general to Orihara Izaya, he was hard-pressed to have the upper hand. It was his body, after all. He would decide what he did and did not do.

But alas, he had no hope. Such is the power of the sneeze.

It verged on his suddenly without pompous entrance, and his lungs sucked in dry, air-conditioned oxygen with an audible, "hHH-!" before he wrenched upright with an earth-shattering ruckus. And of course, his nose was not satisfied simply by one, but needed at least two or three more before it granted him reprieve. Each snapped him at the waist, and he sprayed aerosol all over the bed sheets. What did he care? Fuck Izaya and his apartment. He'd germ the whole place up if he felt like it.

Though, he admitted to himself as his eyes swam back into focus, head throbbing, tissues would be nice. He swiped a finger under his nose, and when he felt the slick wetness there, he kept wiping until he had used the length of his forearm. Then, promptly, he decided he was being disgusting and would have to hunt down a box of Kleenex. Blood and sweat was one thing; snot was entirely another.

As Shizuo reached and stripped back the bed, trembling with a dismayed shiver at the chill it gave him, he realized just how correct Shinra had been. His condition, as foreign and inconvenient as it was to him, was not very good. When his feet hit the floor, his body felt heavy, and the colors and sounds of the world wavered from his grip. He had to crush the heels of his palms to his eyes to try and regain control, and when he moved his arms to such a degree, it caused his balance to shift and he staggered sideways like a drunk walking a line, snatching at the bed clothes as he went to his knees.

It was like walking on a tossing ship. Shizuo had to have walls or handles, or at least a physical aid if he were to go anywhere. Not to mention, but his cold was finally settling in for a nice, long stay, and his shuddering was persistent. The everlasting hum in his sinuses returned full-force, and he threw his head down with his thunderous sneeze. Again and again. They never came alone, always brought company, and the onslaught was frankly too much.

Shizuo would rather take bullets than be put through this nightmare.

He wasn't sure when it happened, but there were hands on him, yanking him to his feet and pushing him back onto the bed. Shizuo was preoccupied with the sneezing and the stumbling, so he couldn't make out the individual immediately. His eyes focused and unfocused, blurry, clear and then blurry again, and he felt the sheets get drawn up to his chin, and hand paste to his forehead. Shizuo closed his eyes, brain throbbing behind his forehead.

"Shizu-chan," some voice said from far away, through something thick and fluffy. "Can you hear me?"

No, he couldn't. Not really. Regardless, Shizuo wrinkled his face, uncomfortable and hot, and said, "Shut-…the hell… up."

His breath snagged his throat, and he pitched forward with a body-crunching sneeze, snarling afterwards from the combined pain and disgust that he felt. His upper lip was coated with warmth. He couldn't decide if he was too tired to be humiliated or not.

"Don't move," the voice said, warbling. It said something else, but Shizuo couldn't make it out. Something about a fever? Or was "beaver?" Too hard to tell. The hand on his head was dry and cool, and Shizuo slapped one of his own hands over it, keeping it there.

"I…fucking hate you," he slurred. The voice didn't say anything back, but the thumb of the dry, cool hand did stroke his forehead a little. It felt good. Shizuo sighed, then snorted as he felt fabric wipe at his nose. It was rough, like the edge of a shirt. The voice started speaking again, but it was only an underwater sound, until Shizuo finally seemed to break the surface.

"…-pathetic, Shizu-chan," was what Shizuo could make out. He blinked, eyes watery, up at the fuzzy form of what appeared to be Izaya, who was watching the digital alarm clock as he waved out an oral thermometer. Apparently, that had been in Shizuo's mouth at some point in the last few minutes.

"You have a fever," he said.

"No shit," Shizuo growled. He didn't do anything to remove the hand still pressing against his slick forehead.

"And you're sweaty," Izaya said, finally peeling his hand back and looking at the moisture on his palm. "You must have been dreaming about me."

Shizuo thought about strangling him, but then decided he was too tired, so he just stayed still and glared. His vision blurred again, and he jammed the knuckle of his wrist into one of his eyes, itching it.

"Just get the hell out."

Izaya grinned for a moment, rusty eyes glinting in the dim light of a soft 30 watt lamp bulb. Watched him. Shizuo, panting, laying there… helpless. Practically. The Orihara cocked a brow, his smile fish-hooking a little deeper into his left cheek. The dog's nose was running like a faucet; his eyes could barely focus, let alone stay open. And yet he was trying so hard to be angry. He wanted to be the grumpy, grizzly, "I'm-not-going-to-take-your-crap" kind of guy he had always been.

But maybe he couldn't be.

Not now.

Izaya's eyes widened.

Shizuo, who's eyes were too itchy and dry to keep open, eventually cracked one open when he wasn't sure if he was alone or not. Upon finding Izaya still observing him like the creep that the raven was, Shizuo growled at him.

"I said," he paused to heave a massive sniffle. "Get the hell out."

"What if I don't want to?"

This gave Shizuo pause. Was Izaya seriously going to do this now? Shizuo really wasn't up for it today. His head thrummed, his sinuses prickled, his body ached, he could hardly see or stand up straight. What a prick, Izaya was. Pressing his palms to his forehead, Shizuo tried to ignore the sensation of the bed jostling as Izaya sat down on it.

"I'll fucking kill you, flea," he warned, but his voice was hoarse. "I swear."

Izaya only chuckled, reaching out to smooth blonde bangs from the moistened forehead. "Oh, I don't think so, Shizu-chan."


	8. Interruptions

**AN: WARNING, PEOPLE~! The chapter below is a Namie chapter—she's getting jealous of Shizu-chan, so she's going to try and butt in LOL. This will certainly lead to some interesting drama, and you can bet Shizu-chan MIGHT have a little something to say about it :3. Hopefully, those of you who despise NamiexIzaya will muscle through LOL. Trust me, I'm a Shizaya shipper, so there's no way it ends with a surprise Nazaya xD.**

**AND an OOC warning for everyone xDD. Namie, Izaya and Shizuo go totally bananas in this chapter. If you hate them, I'm sorry I write them crappy T^T xDD.. I wanted some things to happen, so I had to have them act kind of weird. Besides, this is a Shizaya fic, so I guess there has to be SOME suspension of disbelief LOLS**

**ALSO, this chapter is a little-.. mature xD. So, be forewarned, young, squeamish people. Look away~!**

8. Interruption

Shizuo felt Izaya's fingers run down his chest and settle on his stomach, nosing under his shirt. The flea's hand was pleasantly cool, making the muscles in Shizuo's abdomen clench and tremble just a little. The blonde let out a little puff of air, gritting his teeth.

Not this. Not now. He was just too weak to put a stop to it right now. If he were himself, he'd have lifted the double-wide bed and pelted the damn flea with it ten-times over already. But today was a bad day—he couldn't bring himself to stand, let alone lift the bed.

Izaya's lips brushed against his neck and then around his hairline, behind his ear. Shizuo squeaked, and was so embarrassed for squeaking, he started kicking at Izaya. The fucking psycho had found a sensitive spot.

"Get the _hell_ off me, Izaya-"

"Oh-ho-ho~.. Shizu-chan's a little touchy back here, is he?"

As Shizuo panted, tiring himself out, Izaya nuzzled his nose behind Shizuo's ear and flopped beside the blond, wrapping his arms around Shizuo's shoulders. Shizuo shuddered from the contact, arching at the feeling of Izaya tickling that area at his hairline. He had no idea why that spot was so receptive to touch—it always had been.

However, the mood broke when Izaya shifted on the bed and accidently bumped his head against Shizuo's healing head injury. He didn't so much as scream as he did grunt, but the sound was all the same to Izaya.

"Oh, god-.." One of the raven's hands slipped into Shizuo's fingers lacing and locking in for the stay. His voice was tight, a little shocked. There was even a little guilt, maybe. "My bad, Shizu-chan~.." The apology couldn't have been more off-handed, but Shizuo could tell Izaya wanted it to sound that way. Izaya didn't want to seem over apologetic—that would be weakness; it would make him vulnerable.

At first, the pain in his head had been so intense, his vision had blacked in and out, flashing colors across his eyes. But it dimmed over time, back to a dull, aching throb—managable. He sniffled thickly, nose buzzing a little. He turned his head away from Izaya.

"Shut up."

They were both a little flushed—one from stimulation, the other from shame. Neither one looked at the other, both a little unsure of what came next. Izaya's hand twitched a little in Shizuo's. The blonde grip was surprisingly lax; he was so calm. Mr. Orihara, on the other hand, was pent up. Sure, he could play it cool on the outside. He was a master of deception; he knew how to lie. But on the inside, it was war. His heartbeat echoed against the walls of his stomach, and his mind kept spouting off stupid things like, "Touch him, Izaya~.." .. "Kiss him, right there…you know~.. Behind his ear, Izaya.."

The darker-haired man closed his eyes, biting his lower lip. How-… How much of himself could he give to Shizuo? How much of his guard could he let down, without being hurt? It was impossible to know. He had never had a functional relationship with anyone, let alone another man. He opened his mouth, about to say something really dumb, when Shizuo beat him to it.

"You don't-..."

Izaya paused, slowly shifting his head on the pillow, looking at Shizuo. The blonde was flat on his back, eyes on the ceiling, face flushed, nose running a little. Izaya couldn't help but smile, just ever so slightly. Poor guy~…

"…-have to stop."

The room was silent for a moment, but it wasn't necessarily an awkward silence.

"Eh-…what?"

Shizuo sniffled, glaring at the ceiling now, shifting uncomfortably.

"You can-…keep going.. Like before…"

More silence. Shorter, this time.

"You mean, the ear th-?"

The interruption came swiftly, as if Izaya had been ready to spill a grave secret.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, voice throaty and deep. "That."

Izaya hoped Shizuo didn't notice his momentary "goof-grin." He adjusted his position, more careful this time, and blew against the side of Shizuo's neck. The blonde stiffened, jaw tight. What was he doing? This was the-… the DAMN FLEA! And they were cuddling in bed together. Not only that, but Shizuo was absolutely disgusting. A few hours ago, he didn't give a shit-… but now, he was a little embarrassed. But not embarrassed enough to slink away. He wanted this too badly, whatever _this_ was.

When Izaya's tongue skirted across the spot behind his ear, Shizuo couldn't keep himself from gripping the coverlet. His occupied hand squeezed Izaya's. Izaya chuckled.

"What an interesting development," he said, speaking against Shizuo's skin. "I had no idea Shizu-chan could have weaknesses like these."

Breathing a little heavily, Shizuo's baleful eyes floated towards Izaya, foggy with something. _Maybe want_, Izaya hoped. Alas, not the want Izaya had hoped for. Shizuo doubled forward with three wet, hair-trigger sneezes, resonating like gunfire in the bedroom. He flopped back against the matress, scrubbing at his nose with his sleeve until Izaya dropped a box of tissues onto his chest.

"Shizu-chan is so strong~" Izaya said, tracing the line of a muscle as he unbuttened Shizuo's shirt. "And yet…" He rubbed a thumb along the heated skin. Shizuo grunted. "And yet, there are soft things about him, ne?"

The voices beyond the door were damp and warbled, but Namie could make them out.

"You can…keep going..."

"Shizu-chan is so strong..."

Her fingernails bit at her palms when her hands tightened suddenly, flexing. It was disgusting, the two of them—flirting back and forth like that. She wasn't one to judge, but the idea of Shizuo and Izaya flacking late into the night was one she could not entertain for more than a few nauseating nanoseconds.

For one thing, they hated one another. She had never met Shizuo in person before now, and for good reason. Izaya didn't want him around, didn't want to even talk about him. And now, all of a sudden, her boss was shacking him up? On top of that, Izaya seemed to have no problem being blatantly obvious about his intentions.

It was rude.

It was inconsiderate.

Namie sighed, eyes looking skyward. Then again, when had Izaya ever been anything else?

The door behind her snapped open and she found herself upon the floor, gasping as she tumbled backwards, landing in a heap on Izaya's sock-covered feet. The look of quiet surprise lasted two blinks, but it was long enough for Namie. She loved that look on him—she wanted to be the cause of it, always.

Trying to compose herself, she slowly sat up and dusted off the sleeves of her sweater.

"Finished already? I thought it would take a little longer."

Izaya stepped over her, tugging the door shut with a lazy gait. The new look on his face suggested indifference, but it was just a front. His smile was faint.

"Shizu-chan is tired. I'm making him leek soup."

"This coming from the man who orders out whenever he can?"

Namie followed him into the kitchen, trying not to act like an eager puppy. But she couldn't help herself. She-…wanted his attention, damn it. That made her so angry, to admit that to herself. It was disgraceful, but she couldn't help it. If Izaya knew of her true intentions, he didn't seem to acknowledge them

"It will be my adventure for the day~," Izaya said as he opened the fridge. To be honest, he just wanted to make something for Shizuo and feed it to him, and was nervous about the quality of the future meal. He wasn't that good of a cook; that's why he had Namie do all the domestic stuff. Izaya only liked certain foods, anyway—he was picky. Maybe Shizuo was too, then. Did Shizuo _like_ leek soup?

"Maybe you should let me, so you don't destroy the kitchen."

"That's all right. Why don't you go do some laundry?"

"I'm your secretary, not your maid."

"Really~? You take my orders like a maid."

"..Oh? What makes you think I'm so docile?"

"Have you ever disobeyed me?"

Stalemate. Izaya, who had been gathering ingredients during the chat, glanced over his shoulder at her as he chopped at a leek. She had a very strange look on her face. Anger? Maybe not so severe. Shame? Yes, a little of that. Her cheeks were a little pink. Perhaps he had embarrassed her. That made him grin a little more. Strange. He didn't know Namie could get embarrassed, especially over something so silly. He kept looking at her as he spoke.

"I bet you would do anything I tell you."

Her eyes snapped to him, wide. Her body went tense as a piano wire. "Is that so?"

"Well, yes-.. Oh, _fuck—_" Izaya dropped the knife and growled at the deep slice into his thumb. He hadn't been paying attention, damn it. His mind was so cloudy lately—probably because of Shizu-chan. It hurt, yes, but Izaya wasn't whiny. He had endured much worse. But the river of blood and plush of inner skin was not something he wanted to deal with.

"Damn it," he said, exhaling. "Namie, do we have any-"

He blinked twice, a little surprised at the first-aid kit she was already offering to him. That was fast. Holding his injured hand to his chest, he started fumbling with the latch. She shoved him away, getting his blood on her hands, as she opened the kit for him.

"Honestly," she tsked, eyes hard and bright. "Sometimes I think you're mentally challenged."

Izaya laughed once—a barking noise. "Really~? I very well may be."

She glanced up at him—the smile on his face, the soft color of his eyes. It was too much. Her hands shook as she started bandaging him. He winced once, then twice, as she pulled at his wound.

"Namie," he said, voice hitching as a zing of pain sobered him. "Gently-…"

Gently? Gently? Take me gently. Such a nice word. It brought such kind images behind her eyes. His red blood on her white hands. She tied the gauze, and held onto his hand. She twisted her fingers in a way that would pain him to jerk away from her. Izaya stared down at their hands, then slowly to her face.

"Namie—"

"Damn it, Izaya," she choked, her voice a little high. She sounded more like a woman now than he had ever heard before. She glared up at him, and he scowled right back, now visibly displeased. But his eyes darted a little. They shifted. He didn't know what to say; he was uncomfortable.

"Kiss me."

It was a command. Izaya blanched.

"Er…what?"

"_Kiss me._"

"…I don't know what's wrong with you today, but this may warrant a suspension of your-"

"Fuck my job," she said, vicing her grip on his hand. His face twitched with the pain. "I want you."

"You're on your period, aren't you." Also a definitive statement.

Their lips met unwillingly. Izaya didn't want it, but she had him pinned against a heating stove, clutching to a bleeding injury. He was trapped; he didn't know where to go. In no way had he been expecting this. If he had, he would have fired the bitch. This was practically rape.

What could humans be thinking when they pulled shit like this? Females especially. Izaya, as his mouth was probed by Namie's tongue (which he tried to bite), realized he didn't like females very much. His mother, his sisters-… even when he was young, he avoided them. It made Shizuo even more of the logical choice.

Regardless, Namie freed a hand and started finding places on his body that she shouldn't have been exploring. Izaya gasped, then tore his mouth from hers, trying to regain a sense of control. She had the essence of shock on her side, but he was still physically stronger. If she wasn't about to pull his damn thumb off, all of this would have been over before it started.

"I do not care for this behavior…" It was so disappointing, but that's all he could muster in this situation. He didn't want to anger her, or get her too loud, because he didn't want Shizuo to hear any of this. The less the blonde knew about this, the better. Namie tightened her hands around him.

"I don't give a damn," she said.

The dark-haired flea started shifting his eyes, looking for a way out, when they caught sight of the worst possible thing… the absolute one thing he _did not_ want to see right now.

"Izaya," he said, using the wall for support as she teetered into the kitchen doorway. He was pale, sweaty, and dead on his feet, but apparently Shizuo had something he had to talk to Izaya about.

"I have to take a piss, and I can't find the fucking-"

That's when Shizuo's blurry vision cleared for a soft, precious few moments, unveiling the scene before him. Blood, boiling water, Namie's hand down Izaya's pants.

Fuck.


	9. Let's Settle This

**AN:** **Wow, so how long's it been? Sorry about this people xD.. Life is so crazy, ne? :P.. To all of those who are still reading, you get a huge round of applause xD**

9. Let's Settle It

Oh hell no.

The three of them all stood staring, the air disastrously heavy with something. Izaya was by far the most nervous among them. Shizu-chan certainly had great timing, didn't he? Always had, that man. It was one of the reason's Izaya liked him so much, perhaps. The blonde was practically reliable in his punctuality. He had been hit by a truck twice (three if one were to count the unintentional maiming very recently), and none of those incidents would have been possible without the ex-bartender's sense of timing.

Izaya thought there might be a smile on his face, but he couldn't feel it, so he wasn't sure. Shizuo was pale, a hand splayed against the counter by the door, legs apart to try and balance his tipsy weight. His eyes were far away, on the other side of the room, but the pupils were still wide and deep. Namie was watching Shizuo like someone watches a loose tiger in a clearing. She had seen what the man was capable of, and hadn't thought, until just now, that he might club her to death with her own arms or something like that. The blonde swallowed, his throat rippling from the action, before he took another step forward. Namie didn't move, eyes locked and still, and Izaya could only smile. He was nervous. He couldn't read Shizuo at the moment.

"Shizu-chan? The bathroom's down the hall to the left. Second door." Given the situation, Izaya probably should have said more. But acknowledging a mistake was so much harder than ignoring it. Leaving things unsaid bothered some people; it didn't bother Izaya. He could go years without owning up to something. He never lost sleep. He would be happy to see Shizuo turn around and never mention this unfortunate scene.

Part of Shizuo's charm and danger was that he sometimes did not do what Izaya wanted, or thought he would. Staggering and clawing his way forward using the furniture, the blonde continued his pursuit forward. His brown eyes focused solely on the only female in the room, which was starting to remove herself from Izaya's bubble. She did so slowly, like people do on nature documentaries or police-chase tapes. For the first time in his life, Izaya felt defended. No one had ever considered him precious before.

Izaya jumped as Shizuo lunged forward to close the distance, and Namie flung herself backwards. She put the kitchen counter island between her own body and Shizuo's, fearful of him. It would appear that Shizuo had few intentions going after her, and instead just hung around Izaya, guarding him like a dog territorial of its belongings. A warm spring welled up in Izaya, overflowing from his belly into his blood, and getting his face pink. His happiness was unexpected and intense. He couldn't control himself, and his hands came to rest on Shizuo's strong shoulders. Touching the man brought Izaya great pleasure.

For a few moments, all was still. Izaya buried his face into Shizuo's back, steadying the larger man and keeping him sturdy. The blonde mutely glared at Namie, the hate and intention in his eyes obvious. Such darkness unnerved her and she eventually slipped away without a word. What could one say? Even in such a state of weakness and misery, Shizuo was unfazed and prepared to fight for something he wanted. It was clear now: he wanted Izaya. He just wasn't confident or liberal enough to say it in words. He probably never would. Heiwajima was most likely the biggest damn tsundere in the entire world.

Neither of the men said anything to one another because there was nothing to say. All had been said in that one moment. The fears Izaya had about commitment or reciprocation had been answered in a fit of jealousy and defense. Shizuo, while not openly stating his feelings, had never been one to do that in the first place. Izaya realized he was expecting too much from the man. A decent recognition of his feelings should be enough right now. They may have known one another for many years, but this dynamic was new. It would need tenderness and patience to develop, if it even had a chance.

Izaya felt Shizuo sag a little, his protective front cracked. Fatigue and fever were overwhelming at the moment, and his shivering started up again. Immediately, Izaya felt tremendous guilt. His arms tightened just a little—hard enough to hug Shizuo's middle, but soft enough to keep his wounds from giving any resistance.

"Shizu-chan," he muttered, feeling the true desire to apologize. "I didn't mean—"

"Save it," Shizuo growled. But he wasn't angry. Izaya had made him mad enough to know when Shizuo was actually frustrated. "If my nose wasn't shitty right now, I would have smelled the heat on her. Wasn't your fault."

The gruff but honest consoling nearly melted Izaya. Being as abnormal as he was, the Orihara informant never really experienced such delicate human emotion, had never felt such a close connection and need for acceptance and reassurance. It made him feel weak, but strong at the same time. Another hard shudder from Shizuo brought him back to the moment. Unwrapping himself from the man, Izaya started leading him back down the hall.

"You should be resting, Shizu-chan~"

"I told you," he said muzzily, stumbling a little. "I have to take a piss."

"Oh, right." Izaya had almost forgotten. As they passed the open archway from the kitchen to the living room, he shot a glance towards the sofas and desk, looking for Namie. She was nowhere to be found, and it gave him a sigh of relief. He didn't know where she had scurried off to, but she wouldn't be getting the best of him a second time. Plus, Izaya was certain she was too much of a coward to stick her nose into his business again. He winced as his thumb throbbed, the bandage Namie had been applying only half-finished. Shizuo's eyes floated to the spots of blood, following drops to the floor. He didn't say anything about it.

The bathroom was tiled and modern, and Shizuo got testy when Izaya tried to hang around him while he took his pants down. Chuckling, the informant left the blonde alone; he trusted that Shizuo could manage peeing without his help. Though it worried him how he had watched Shizuo grip the edge of the bath-counter with a sweaty palm, legs shaky under his weight and balance still tippy. The wounds caused him little pain, but that didn't mean they weren't hard on his body, on his daily tasks. Normal people would have long been dead in Shizuo's condition. Izaya smirked as he leaned against the hallway. Good thing Shizuo wasn't normal at all.

* * *

><p>Inside the bathroom, Shizuo blinked hard. Blinked hard again. Sweat was in his eyes, and not only that, but the vision of that bitch with her lips capped over Izaya's. Her hand running down his-… No! Shizuo closed his eyes tight, refusing to relive it. He didn't want to see it again.<p>

Shizuo was proud of himself. In that moment, normally he would have snapped and thrown something heavy, but the combination of illness and injury kept him at bay. And something else did too. Shizuo usually snapped out of anger—because something _made him_ angry. This time there had been another variable in the equation: Izaya. It wasn't just Shizuo being angry for himself, but angry for someone else too. That had helped him keep his head a little, and his fury had died once Izaya was secure.

_Still_, Shizuo thought to himself as he leaned with a hand against the wall behind the toilet, unwilling to stand on his own, _The bastard might have done a little more to stop her before I got there._

He couldn't tell if he trusted Izaya more than he had trusted anyone, or if he felt too shitty to care. Either way, he couldn't feel frustration about anything at the moment. He only felt tired, and cold. Somehow, he had managed to do everything _but_ rest while he was here. Reaching up to his face to adjust his glasses, he realized they were long since broken. They had fallen off and shattered the night he and Izaya climbed the building.

That felt like forever ago.

He rerouted his hand to knuckle his nose instead. Somehow, that was the wrong thing to do; he doubled at the waist with a sneeze, and thanked God he had stopped pissing long enough to keep from making a six-year-old's mistake.

If only he could just get some true rest, he could probably lick this thing. He wet his lips, tasting salt, and suddenly wanted a hot shower as he shivered in the freezer-like bathroom. The toilet flushed automatically to Shizuo's amusement, and he washed his hands as an afterthought. Looking at himself in the mirror, he scowled at what he found. This man was a pasty, wasted shadow of what Heiwajima Shizuo really was. From the guaze at his head to the unsturdy wavering of his legs, he was a mess. And in a sudden flare of pride to prove that he wasn't, Shizuo reached up and started tearing at the bandages around his head. The flashes of pain weren't so much a deterrent as was the flickering of his vision. Every time he jostled the wound, he lost vision for a brief moment, and sounds seemed to amplify. It _should _have stopped him from pursuing. But it didn't

"Shizu-chan?" Izaya called from behind the door, being attentive for once in his miserable life. "Did you fall in~?"

"Shut up," he growled, sniffling afterwards. The sounds were warbling, and he wasn't sure at what volume he was speaking. Shouting? Or was he whispering it? His reflection clicked out and faded in again, pulsing as he unwrapped more and more of his guaze. He'd be damned if a stupid, pathetic bump on the head kept him down for the count. Nothing could ever wipe him out before. Why now? Why was all this weakness coming now? He finally had someone to be strong for-…

"…Shizuo." Izaya's voice was underwater, deep below him. Shizuo inhaled as he felt his body wash with icy water. The door jiggled, but it was locked. "Shizuo, what are you doing?" When had Shizuo locked the door? He couldn't remember. But he was almost there. No matter the fact that he had black spots in his eyes, or that there was the noise of rushing wind in his left ear. Didn't matter.

"Open the door, Shizuo."

To Shizuo, the words sounded more like a wet lawnmower. He couldn't make them out, but he was starting to see the bare, scarring skin of his skull. Had he lost hair at the injury site, or was that where Shinra shaved him for the stiches? There sure were stiches, all right. Roads and roads of them. The image of the wound didn't disgust him as it appeared, but Shizuo was suddenly aware of a strong need to vomit as the guaze peeled at the setting skin. The pain was white hot, and for the first time, Shizuo cried out.

But he wanted to see. He had to prove to himself that this was something he could definitely recover from. He hadn't been in the hospital in ages, and didn't want to feel like he was deserving of it now. The fact that Izaya had to help him hobble to the bathroom after he had just tried to defend him was humiliating. What kind of man was he, anyway? Weak. He was weak.

Shizuo took a quick, deep breath, feeling as though he had forgotten to breath. His lungs hurt, and he started coughing, and he felt as though he were falling. But his back hit the wall of the narrow bathroom before he could make it to the floor. Groaning, he groped around for something to push up with, and found a wiry towel rack for purchase. The door was jiggling again, and Shizuo knew Izaya had retrieved the key. Shizuo struggled, but then realized that he had gone blind in both eyes. He couldn't see anything-… and that fucking turn of events kept him still until Izaya burst in. At least, from what Shizuo could hear over the roar of water.

Whatever Izaya was saying to him was getting drowned out from the rushing sounds, and when he felt hot hands on his wrists, pulling him up, he swore he puked all over something. But Shizuo was numb from the waist down, so if it got on him, he wasn't the wiser. He had to gasp to remind himself to breathe again. It bothered him that he didn't seem to remember, or wasn't getting enough air to begin with. All that was happening felt swimmy; his concept of time faltered, but nothing was painful. Or at least, very little.

* * *

><p>Shizuo wasn't sure when he had gotten to sleep, and when he had woken up. But the next time he breathed, the air was cool, and he was on something soft. Luckily his vision was back, but it was blurry. It didn't help that the room was dark, he realized. Things felt sticky, and he realized that he had been sweating probably for some time. The temperature was manageable now, thankfully. The blonde felt warm for the first time in days. He rustled a little under the covers, clearing his throat. It was still dusty and sore-feeling.<p>

"Are you fucking stupid?"

Oh, good. He could hear properly again too. Shizuo turned his head a little, grimacing just slightly as it ached. Izaya sat in a kitchen chair, one of his legs propped up on the bedframe. His rusty eyes were more serious and angry than Shizuo had seen them.

"…I-"

"You could have probably _killed_ yourself, dumbass."

Shizuo scoffed at that, starting to push himself up by his elbows. "Like _hell_ I would have. Listen-"

"No, _YOU_ listen, Shizuo!"

The amount of feeling in those words made the ex-bartender pause. He blinked twice, ignoring the slight buzz at the side of his skull from his wound. Izaya's tense posture and crossed arms never flinched, but his face was twisted with some kind of torture Shizuo had never seen.

"It's my job to protect you right now, and fuckin' finding you passed out from a fever in the bathroom after prying off your gauze isn't something I needed to see. Apparently I overestimated your intelligence, so I'm just going to have to say it outright." Izaya leaned in a little, his tone rather harsh for his words. "I care about you."

Shizuo knew this was supposed to be some great epiphany, where both of them sort of come together and realize something. Shortly after, they would experience a harmony neither one could explain, curl up in bed together, and live happily ever after. But that wasn't real, and it certainly wasn't Shizuo. He was in a fighting mood right now, even if this wasn't something he actually wanted to fight about.

"Don't you think I care too?" he snarled, teeth grit. His voice wasn't so silky as Izaya liked it, but the feral thickness from his cold made the informant pay more attention to what he was saying. "How do you think I felt? Seein' you at the mercy of that bitch in the kitchen. Felt like a failure for-…n-…nuh-… hell-"

Shizuo laid back before he sneezed, so as not to jostle himself too much. It ached a little anyway, as powerful as they were. He stayed on his back, sniffling twice, before sneezing again. Izaya didn't chew him out for not covering his mouth. Neither one of them cared about something like that right now.

"-for not being… being someone you would have dumped her for."

Those last mumbled words really threw Izaya for a loop. Shizuo wasn't mad at Izaya for that incident; he was mad at himself, because he hadn't done enough to measure up to Namie? It took Orihara a second to process it, but he didn't want to leave that in the air for too long without an answer.

"First of all, you don't have to compete for my attention-"

"Really? So that stint in the kitchen wasn't because you were bored?!"

"What? You said yourself you knew _she _was the one advancing on me!"

"Still, you JUST STOOD THERE-!" Shizuo here paused to cough, and Izaya felt a little guilty about it. He supposed he could have done more, but it had taken him by surprise. How was he supposed to compose a reaction with so little time to act? Izaya rubbed his temples with his thumbs.

"Look," he said. "I'm not perfect at this-"

"Neither am I, dipshit-"

"Right…so it's not going to be easy-"

"Hah, like it was before we even started all this damn lovey-"

"Well, do you want to?"

The question sounded a lot more exasperated than Izaya had intended, but it was already in the air now. Shizuo stared at him for some time, swallowing once.

"…want to…?"

With a deep breath, Izaya forced himself to continue being civil. If this was what being human was like, he would have to bear it. It was hard, though. It required trust that Izaya didn't know he even had.

"Want to start all 'this damn lovey stuff'?"

It was an important thing to ask, and Shizuo wasn't entirely sure of his answer. They hadn't come out and looked at it this way. They had messed around quite a bit, and dodged the issue in favor for other more immediate thoughts, but here was the main idea. It was impossible to plate on a side-dish now.

"…do you?"


End file.
